


Convictions

by Gedry



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Illegal behavior, M/M, descriptions of mental health concerns related to anxiety and agoraphobia, gun shot wounds, mentions of attempted rape and abuse during imprisonment (non-graphic).
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 02:46:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12644568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gedry/pseuds/Gedry
Summary: Dean makes a living in high class home invasion. Dean's careful, he never wanted anyone to get hurt. But when he discovers Castiel still at home while he and his team are robbing the house everything changes. Dean pays the price for his misdeeds but somehow, along the way, he manages to make a friend out of Castiel. A man still struggling with his own kind of incarceration. Their relationship offers Dean some comfort, but once he's done serving his time questions still remain. Are they friends, or something more? Can they make a life together out of the ashes of their old ones, or are they both still serving their sentences?





	Convictions

**Convictions**

**Prologue**

Dean doesn’t punch a time clock at a traditional nine to five job. He works for a living, sure, but it’s not as if he’s going to be filing for a tax return at the end of the year. What he does takes a special skill set, and while he’s not proud of his line of work, he has to admit he’s one of the best at what he does. Dean has to be the best, because raising your kid brother who has dreams of Ivy League schools on your own isn’t cheap or easy. 

So Dean learned how to utilize his natural talents to make a living. He’s got great charisma. There is no one can resist him once he turns on the charm. He can hold his own in a fight and drive a get away car like nobody’s business. Throw in how he handles a weapon and his fantastic lock picking skills and you end up with a specific skill set that really only has one outlet.

There are street thugs and small timers. Dean isn’t that type of thief. He’s big time. He’s an asset, a team player, and he takes direction well.

It’s why Gordon has him on his team. Hell, if this was high school, Dean would be co-captain. 

They have a system. Their M.O. is hitting up the high class, high dollar homes that line the edge of the desert near Vegas. They stay away from anything too involved. Any high security gates or electronic monitoring systems make those places too rich for their blood. Any thoughts of a high pay off were soured by the thought of getting caught.

They stick to good upper-class neighborhoods, where the home owners seem to think that their address alone keeps them safe from people wandering in and taking their stuff. 

Any team needs structure. Their team had certain unbreakable rules which provided the framework for all their jobs. Dean helped Gordon set them up himself. There are rules about what jobs they’ll take, and rules about how those jobs will be run. Among the rules are that they avoid places with small kids, they never rob a place when someone might be home, and they never hit the same place twice, no matter how sweet the last score. 

Most of all, the team has to be tight. Gordon is the type of person who won’t tolerate the smallest betrayal. For Dean it’s all about loyalty. Dean can’t stand newbies who are out for themselves, and he sure as hell isn’t risking his freedom on some punk off the street just looking for fast money. There is too much at stake for anyone not fully invested. Most of these jobs take months of planning with all the monitoring and triple checking. It’s not for the faint of heart. 

Their model is successful. Dean can’t even count how many places he and Gordon have hit together. It’s been enough that he’s been able to put Sam through almost four years of college. Call him a sucker, but all he and his brother have ever had was each other. Sam has a chance for a better life. He’s smart, driven. Dean wants him to have the things he can’t. Things he’s lost because of the choices he’s made.

Dean’s not smart like Sam, but he’s not stupid. How many retired thieves do you see on television? He’s going to screw up somewhere. He’ll die young, probably ugly too. But before he goes, he’s going to make sure Sam’s set for whatever life he wants. 

It’s with their usual tactics the team set up the next score. They’ve been planning the Novak job for two months. They’ve run all the scenarios and triple checked the plans. They know the homeowner's and his housekeeper's schedule better than they know their own. They even know the gasman comes on the third Tuesday and trash pick up in between 9am and 11am on Fridays. They’ve had someone on the house constantly for three weeks keeping tabs on everyone who enters and exits the property. The owner, Gabriel Novak is a high class gambler who has had a _lot_ of success at the tables. He’s used that money to carved out a nitch for himself in the community as an entrepreneur. He must be as lucky in business as he is at cards. Lucky enough to get him the swanky-ass house he lives in. 

The chance they’ve been waiting for finally happens. This weekend is the World Poker Tournament at the Rio resort, and Gabriel Novak is a top seated player. He left his house at three in the afternoon today and should not return for at least three long days. The Vegas odds say Novak will peter out in the middle of the six day tournament. They should have all his belongings stolen, fenced, and their asses sitting on the money before the guy even discovers the break in. 

Sometimes Dean really loves his job. He’s like James Bond with a criminal record.

Despite all their planning, tonight, it turns out, Dean's more like Elmer Fudd with a criminal record. 

It's well past midnight when they arrive on the property. Dean silently picks the lock and they come in through the kitchen backdoor. Dean doesn’t think anything of the fact that the lights are on. Novak is like most people in this town who leave their lights on all the time. They all work crazy hours and party all night long. No one likes to come home to a dark house at 3 a.m. 

They’ve planned this as a simple smash and grab. The team works meticulously, each man taking a different part of the house. They take their time with it because they know they won’t be disturbed. Dean had finished with the study and had made his way back to the kitchen when he noticed a door to one side. He opens it, and instead of a pantry he finds a flight of stairs. The walls of the staircase are lined with framed posters from old movies. He follows them down, hoping to see one of those in house movie theaters that have been becoming so popular with the mildly rich. He tastes the thrill of a primo find on his tongue. That kind of set up can mean a lot of good stuff. A decent projector alone is worth a couple thousand. 

But it’s not a movie house, or a man cave. It’s a downstairs apartment. 

And the occupant is home and furious. 

Dean has to give the guy credit; he swings a bat like a World Series champ. With a feral growl, the guy manages to hit Dean so hard that Dean’s pretty sure his arm is broken. They scuffle, knocking over an end table and smashing a picture frame. Dean tries to keep the noise to a minimum by moving towards the center of the room. He knows the kind of people he works with. If they find out there’s someone alive in the house…

Well, according to the rules, the guy won’t be left alive for very long. 

Dean finally manages to get the upper hand after a few blows to the other guy’s face with his good arm. Dean sweeps the guy's feet out from under him and pins him down to the carpet.

“Stop it! Stop fighting me. I’m not here to hurt you.” Dean growls into the man's ear.

The man goes slack underneath the weight of Dean’s body. It’s clear from the frightened man’s wide blue eyes that he doesn’t believe Dean for an instant, and why should he? So far Dean's broken into his home and beat the living shit out of him.

Dean clamps a hand across the man’s mouth and whispers, “We’re not here to hurt you. We just came for the stuff in the house. Are you alone? Blink once for yes twice for no.”

The man hesitates but then blinks just once. 

Dean exhales in relief. If it’s just one guy then he has a chance to get his team back out of the house without them finding out the place is occupied. 

“Okay, here’s what going to happen. I’m going to get up and help you get to your feet. You need to stay quiet. You need to hide until I get them out. Is there a place where you won’t be found?”

The blue eyed man nods shakily and helps Dean haul him to his feet. The guy is shaking like a leaf. Now that the adrenline from the attack as left the man, he’s a limp noodle against Dean’s good arm. Dean’s stomach rolls and he feels his dinner start to crawl back up his throat as the tears start to leak out of the man’s eyes. “Keep it together,” he orders and flinches at how much he sounds like his father. “If the rest of the guys find you it’s not going to be good.” 

“Please don’t hurt me,” the man chokes out as his shaking gets worse and Dean grinds his teeth in frustration. 

“Look,” he growls. “We don’t have time for you to do this right now. There’s a guy upstairs, he works with me. If he finds out you’re here he _will_ kill you. Now you need to get someplace and hide damn it. And stay quiet or you’re fucked!” 

Dean shoves the simpering man off him. He doesn’t wait to see if the guy complies. Dean has other things to worry about, like how to get this job over with before Gordon finds out he has a mysteriously broken arm and a new friend squirreled away downstairs. 

He finds the rest of the group where they’re packing up their loot in the living room. Dean’s blood is pounding in his ears as he leads one last sweep of the house. He’s so close to pulling this off. Sure the guy saw his face but Dean has enough money saved up to make a run for it. He can be out of the state by morning and out of the country before any of this even hits the national news. Dean knows he’ll lose Sam if he runs. His brother will hate him for the shit he’s done, but Dean’s always got a backup plan (escape route) even if he doesn’t always like his options. 

He’s mentally picking between Amsterdam and Mexico when Ash comes out the back door dragging the terrified guy behind him. He smiles, a nasty, shifty smile and says, “Look at what I found.” 

Dean knows then it’s all over. 

They drag the guy down and tie him up to a chair in his basement apartment. If Gordon notices the mess from the fight, he must chalk it up to Ash catching the guy down here. They argue about what to do with him but it gets them nowhere. Dean knows he’s running out of time as Gordon quickly runs out of patience. 

“You know the rules, Dean,” Gordon says as he tugs the gun out of his pants to train it on the man who flinches away and whimpers. “Hell, you made the rules.”

Dean did too. Every single one of them. But he never thought he would have to actually kill someone. It was just something that went with the program. Don’t take what you can’t sell. Don’t try to take more than you can carry. Don’t leave witnesses. 

But Dean’s a thief, not a murderer and he’s not planning on being one today. 

“No,” Dean says again. “Just leave him down here. He’s a fucking nutcase. Look at him, he's crazy or something. No one will believe him and it will be days before they find him down here. By then the stuff will be fenced and we’ll be long gone. Hell, I’m thinking Mexico.”

Gordon looks like he might let it go. Then he hears the sirens. They all turn to look at the man tied to the chair and for a second Dean sees hard, cold defiance flash in the man’s too blue gaze. The guy called the police on them. It was smart. It was something Dean would have done if their places had been reversed. 

“Fuck!” Gordon exclaims, “Everyone out! Get to van and get out of here.” 

Dean stays frozen in place as Gordon turns back with his gun raised. Gordon’s really going to do it, Dean realizes dimly. He’s going to kill this man that Dean tried so damn hard to save. He turns and looks at the man. His eyes are clenched shut as he waits for the bullet to come. Dean can’t let someone’s life end so easily.

Gordon pulls the trigger, the gun discharges and Dean throws himself in front of the man and in the way of the bullet. 

It ends up being three bullets in the back.

Gordon must not have stuck around. As Dean slumps to his knees at the bound man’s feet, they are the only two people left in the room. Dean coughs and feels the warm trail of blood drip from his mouth. The room starts to spin as his body sinks to the carpet. 

Dean looks up into the man’s frightened eyes and says, “I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen.”

The man starts thrashing in his bindings above him and shouting something unintelligible behind his gag. Dean can’t understand him at all, and then the world fades away. 

****

“Tell me again,” the detective orders, “From the beginning.”

“Jesus _Christ_!” Gabriel barks from off to his left. 

Castiel flinches at the venom in his brother’s tone. 

“Gabriel,” he sighs brokenly as he stares at the blood staining his carpet. Castiel thought he would never get the bleeding to stop. He had been sure the man who saved him was going to die in his arms before help could arrive. “He’s just doing his job.”

“Fuck his job,” Gabriel snarls. “Get out of my house, get on the road and find the fuckers who broke in here and tried to kill my brother. Why don’t you go ask the one they left behind who the fuck they are?” 

“He’s in surgery,” the detective snaps back. 

“Wait,” Castiel says, putting up his hands to make his older sibling back off a bit. “He’s in surgery? Is he going to make it?” 

“Why do you even care?” Gabriel blurts. Castiel looks into both his brother’s and the detective’s faces and he realizes they both think he’s crazy to be concerned for his attacker. 

“Well,” Castiel snaps as he crosses his arms. “It’s nice you both agree on something.” 

“It’s too early to tell,” the detective recovers quickly. “I assure you though; we will prosecute him to the fullest existent of the law assuming he survives his injuries.” 

It’s on the tip of Castiel’s tongue to ask the detective why they would want to do such a thing. If it hadn’t been for the man’s intervention at the risk of his own life Castiel would be dead right now.

He owes something to the man. He could have killed Castiel outright, or let his accomplices do the same. Instead he chose to give Castiel a chance. There’s a huge part of Castiel that feels obligated to now return the favor. It’s the least he can do, if someone had asked him before the break in if he cared if he lived or died Castiel wouldn’t have been able to answer. But having been through it the answer is clear, he wants to live, to recover. The man who helped show him this needs a chance to do the same. 

“Sir,” the detective says softly. “Can you tell me again what happened?”

Castiel rubs his eyes. His voice is sure and strong as he starts again.

“Gabriel left to go to the tournament. I was listening to music while I cleaned the bathroom in my apartment. I heard them come in through the kitchen above me. I thought Gabriel must have forgotten something but when I went upstairs I realized there were strangers in the house. I crept back downstairs to my apartment and called the police. Then the one who saved me came down into my rooms and we struggled. I hit him with a baseball bat I keep for protection. He subdued me, then he told me to hide, said the others would kill me if they found me. I hid in the closet in my apartment. Then the blond one with the weird hair I described to your sketch artist dragged me out of the closet and outside. The other men beat me, tied me up, and argued with the one who told me to hide. When they heard the sirens, the one in charge pulled a gun and tried to shoot me. The other man stepped in the way.”

“What happened after that?” the detective presses. 

“Exactly what I told you last time.” Castiel snaps. “I tipped over the chair, then I used a piece of broken glass from a photo frame to cut myself loose. Once I was free, I did my best to stop the blood flow until help arrived.” 

“And you told the EMS crew that the guy who was shot was your friend,” the detective asks. “Not someone who tried to rob you. Why?”

“I was afraid they wouldn’t save him,” Castiel says quietly as he rubs at the raw spots from the rope on his wrists. “He saved me; I didn’t want him to die.” 

He doesn’t tell the detective everything. Neither does he tell Gabriel after the police finally leave them alone in the driveway. The house is an active crime scene, so they can’t stay there tonight, or take any of their things. Gabriel and Castiel have nothing of their own tonight except Castiel’s bad memories. 

“Come on,” Gabriel comments as he turns towards his car. The crime scene people are still milling in and out of the house, but the police are done with them for now. “Let’s go get a hotel for the night.”

Gabriel drives them to one of the older, smaller hotel's off of the original Las Vegas strip in the Freemont neighborhood. The rooms are clean and well maintained, but smaller and cozier than the new mega resorts uptown. Castiel sticks close to his brother’s side as they walk through the hotel lobby. He holds on tightly to Gabriel’s elbow the whole way to their room. They probably get a few funny looks but he keeps his eyes trained on the gaudy carpet the entire time as he lets Gabriel lead the way. His older brother knows the routine. Gabriel's used to being the buffer between Castiel and the world. It helps that Gabriel's never given half a shit about what anyone ever thought about him. 

Castiel doesn’t do well in crowds, or large outdoor spaces. Well, out in public in general really. He gets disoriented, then frightened, and finally he panics. 

It’s why he was at home when they broke in to what they thought was an empty house. Castiel hadn’t left Gabriel’s home in almost a year. His anxiety had reached new, crippling levels just weeks before. Even now, as emotionally exhausted as he is, he can feel the terror at being so exposed beginning to crawl up his back. He squeezes Gabriel’s elbow hard in warning. 

“I know,” Gabriel murmurs. “You’re doing great, Kiddo. We’re almost there.” 

Castiel closes his eyes and hums tunelessly while Gabriel gets the door to their room open and drags him inside. Once the door is shut, Castiel presses his face against his brother’s shoulder until his breathing evens out and he feels settled enough to look around. It takes longer than he’d like to admit. 

“Go get cleaned up,” Gabriel suggests as he pushes one of the heavy chairs in front of their room door before Castiel even has a chance to ask him too. “You’re a little disgusting.”

Castiel nods, then shuffles off into the bathroom. He catches his reflection in the oversized mirror and sees for the first time how awful he looks. Castiel’s covered in scrapes and bruises. There is dried blood clinging to his skin in places, some of which he can’t even see but he can feel dry and tight. His clothing is fine since they made him change into scrubs from the ambulance and took his cloths as evidence. But underneath his shirt, he’s filthy and bruised. 

He showers, letting the water run as hot as he can stand it. He scrubs his skin red and sobs into the shower wall. The events of the day become too much for him to process any other way. 

He finally gets himself together enough to get out and dry off. He looks at himself in the mirror again and brushes his hand across his battered face. Castiel thinks about the man who saved his life and whispers, “Dean.” 

That's the information he kept from the cops and his brother. His attackers had been so careful, Castiel isn't even sure how he knows it. But Castiel never told anyone he knew Dean’s first name, not even the medic who just thought he was in shock and couldn't talk. He’s not sure why. It feels like a secret he wants to keep only for him, something that connects them on some deeper level. 

Like Castiel is protecting him somehow, the way Dean protected him. 

It makes him feel less weak for a while. Not strong, but less vulnerable.

Castiel hasn’t felt strong in so long he's not even sure he'd remember what it feels like.

*****

“I still don’t understand who hired you to defend me,” Dean complains as his lawyer pulls stacks and stacks of paper out of his briefcase when they have their first appointment. 

Dean’s been locked up in jail awaiting trial for three months now. His wounds have healed enough for them to proceed with the state’s prosecution. Bail was never even considered an option. The judge wisely considered him a flight risk. Not that any of that matters at all now. Dean knows the drill. He’s going to be locked up for a long time. 

He just can’t figure out who hired his five figure defense attorney.

“My employer would prefer to tell you himself,” Zachariah answers. “Suffice it to say, I have been paid exceedingly well to arrange some kind of defense for you. Let me tell you, it’s not like its an easy task. I am to understand you have refused several requests for a deal from the prosecution's office?”

“I’m not a rat,” Dean says with a quick shake of his head. “They want me to name my accomplices and I’m not going to do that.” 

“Even though one of them shot you in the back, repeatedly?” asked Zachariah. 

“Do you know what would happen to me in prison when the rest of the population found out I gave up my partners?” Dean asks as he leans back in his chair. “Getting shot would be nothing compared to that.” 

“You’ve been charged with numerous offenses,” Zachariah sighs. “Armed robbery, breaking and entering, battery, abduction, and assault. Convictions for these offenses carry some hefty jail time.”

“Just tell me how long I’m going away for,” Dean sighs. “I’m not giving the prosecution anything.”

“The maximum sentence is fifteen years,” Zachariah announces. 

Dean flinches and for a moment has to swallow back the urge to cry. He’ll miss Sam’s graduation, hell, maybe even Sam’s marriage. His neices and nephews' births and their first days of school.

He’d be over forty when he got out. 

His life would be over.

“Well,” he says cockily instead. “Doesn’t that just suck?”

“Mr. Winchester,” Zachariah sighs as he pushes the papers in his stack around in a circle. “You’re making this very complicated. I hope you know that.”

“It’s what I do,” Dean says calmly. “I’m like that.” 

Dean limps back to his cell after his meeting with his stomach in knots. He knew the risks, knew the rules and the odds, but this…seriously, fifteen years? 

He wishes the guy he was trying to help had just let him fucking die. 

There was no life after this.

Mail call had come while he was gone. On top is another letter from his brother. Sam’s still in the stage where he’s half yelling, half pleading with Dean to stop being a stubborn asshole and just turn state’s evidence. Sam doesn’t understand that if Dean does that and gives the prosecutors what they want he’s going to end up dead. 

Sam doesn’t understand the rules of the game. 

But there’s another letter waiting for him. It shocks Dean, since only has Sam ever written him. There isn’t anyone to else in their family, and Dean sure doesn’t have the type of people around him who would write him in jail. 

When he opens it he has to go sit down he’s so shocked. 

_Mr. Winchester,_

_My name is Castiel Novak. However, you most likely don’t know me by my name. I’m the man whose life you saved the night of your arrest. I was unable to thank you for your kindness that evening due to our circumstances and I wanted very much to be able to do so. Had it not been for your intervention in the face of the others I wouldn’t be here. For that I am very grateful. I understand that we did not meet under the best of circumstances and that your activities that evening are currently having some long term affects for you. I wish for you to know I’m doing my best to help you in any way I can. I understand that your situation is currently bleak but I ask that you allow my representatives to aid you in your legal battle. It is my hope that perhaps we can procure a better outcome from this  
rough beginning for both of us. _

_Again, I thank you for my life._

_Sincerely,_

_Castiel Novak_

Dean flops down with a thump on his bunk and rubs his eyes. “What the fuck?” 

*****

**Year One**

Dean gets five years, with the possibility of an early release after three. 

He owes that entirely to Castiel Novak. He made a personal appeal to the jury presiding over Dean’s case by a direct satellite uplink during the trial. He explained that he was unable to attend the hearing in person due to a long standing and unrelated medical condition. Castiel asked the jury for leniency in exchange for what he called the selfless act of Dean saving his life. 

Dean never responded to the guy’s letter. He never knew what to say or what the point of their communication would be. Dean had almost got the guy killed, and had ruined his own miserable life in the process. 

It’s not like they could be friends or anything. 

Dean doesn’t have any friends, never has. He’s just never trusted anyone other than Sam. The more people you have in your life the more you get hurt and Dean’s tired of hurting. 

It’s bad enough that he’s hurting Sam now. Sam had been blissfully ignorant of Dean’s occupation before the shooting. Once he started finding things out it wasn’t long before Sam put two and two together to make four and figured out that Dean had been using stolen goods to fund his higher education. 

Sam’s not really speaking to Dean much right now. He writes, but they’re like form letters. They lack the easy affection Dean’s used to getting from his younger sibling. 

He just hopes Sam gets over it before he gets released. 

Three to five years is a long-ass time, but it’s a hell of a lot shorter than fifteen. 

The shortened sentence keeps him in the state pen though, as opposed to being sent off to a federal prison. Dean’s grateful for that. He had been working hard on building a rapport with the guards and staff here and it would really suck to have to start all over somewhere else. 

For as much as the media play up the supposedly relaxed atmosphere of incarceration, jail is _not_ a fun place.

That horrible joke about dropping the soap in the shower really isn’t a joke. It’s a warning told to keep boys on the right path. Dean’s lucky he’s not a small guy. It helps keep most of the assholes off him. 

Except for Alistair. 

He had been Dean’s bunkmate when he first got out of the infirmary before his trial. The dick had waited until lights out on Dean’s first night in population to make his move. He managed to get Dean on his knees by pressing on his still healing bullet wounds before he tried to force feed Dean his dick. 

“You can put it in there,” Dean had warned. “But you won’t get it back. Dinner was gross, and I’m still hungry.” 

Alistair sent Dean back to the infirmary for three more weeks that night. But he also kept his dick to himself. 

Dean won that first fight as he won most of them, most of the time. When he didn’t the nurses took good care of him. Even when he went down, Dean went down swinging. 

Alistair spent a long time in solitary for what he did to Dean. When he got out, they sent him to another room. Alistair’s new roommate was big guy named Tiny who had been pretty lonely for a while. 

From that point on, Dean shared a cell with a weird but harmless little guy named Chuck. 

*****

“What brings you back to therapy?” the man sitting across the living room from Castiel asks. The fee for his therapist in home services are very high, but Castiel paid it without blinking, since going to the office was not an option, not yet anyway. 

“I’ve been struggling with panic attacks and agoraphobia for quite some time,” Castiel explains. “I’ve given up my freedom, my career, my marriage, to this disorder. I’m tired of it. I need to change. I’ve heard of your work with exposure therapy and I was hopeful it might help me.” 

“Your paperwork indicates that you suffered a traumatic incident during a period of self-imposed isolation,” The doctor asks. “Tell me more about that.”

“I live with my brother,” Castiel sighs. “Our home was invaded by a group of men. They found me and to make a very long story short had it not been for one of the men taking three bullets in the back to protect me I would be dead right now.” 

“And this event has triggered a need to have more control over your life?” 

“The man survived,” Castiel says as he grips his hands together. “His name is Dean Winchester. I was unable to testify in his defense at his trial due to my condition. They initially wouldn’t allow me to speak over the web camera from my home. It was so very frustrating. This man nearly died to save my life and my fear almost kept me from helping him in return. I’m tired of living like this. I don’t want to be bound by fear. Being in my home didn’t stop something bad from happening to me. I need you to help me learn to cope instead of being crippled by this.”

Castiel is still working on his first assignment from the doctor in the kitchen when Gabriel makes his way home several hours later. 

“Homework?” Gabriel teases as he pokes at the papers piled up on the kitchen table. 

“Indeed,” Castiel grumbles as turns the pages around and contemplates what he’s supposed to be focused on. 

“What does he think of your grand three year plan?” Gabriel says as he goes and digs a beer out of the refrigerator.

“I don’t want to fight with you about this again,” Castiel snaps as he tosses his pen down on the table. 

“I just want to know if you were honest with the doctor about your Stockholm syndrome,” Gabriel says as he pops the cap off his beer and crosses his arms as he leans against the countertop. 

“I do _not_ have Stockholm syndrome, you fuck,” Castiel huffs. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“So says my brother, the man who is going back into therapy so he can work himself out of self-imposed anxiety-ridden exile in enough time to testify at his attacker’s parole hearing in three years. Not as the victim, mind you. No, because that would make sense. Instead you’re going in support of him being let out of jail early.” 

“ _He saved my life, Gabriel!_ ” Castiel erupts as tears burn the back of his eyes and his body starts to shake. Gabriel blinks at him, clearly stunned by Castiel’s outburst, and watchful for the first signs of a panic attack. 

“Castiel,” Gabriel begins calmly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you. Well, at least not this much.” 

“He nearly died, so I could live,” Castiel pants through the ever tightening feeling in his chest. “What would he think, Gabriel? What would he say if he knew he risked his life and lost his freedom so I could _rot_ in here? I’m just as much of a prisoner as he is. But unlike Dean I can get myself out. I want out. I need out. I need my life back, I have to get my life back so I can go and help him get his back, too…I need this, Gabriel.”

“Okay,” his brother whispers as he crosses the room to squeeze Castiel’s shoulder. “I don’t get it, Little Bro. I don’t at all. You’re acting like your best friend just went to jail and you don’t know him at _all._ I don’t really get the motivation all of a sudden. But if you do…then I’m with you. It would be good to get you out and about.” 

Gabriel goes up to his rooms to change, or maybe just to get away from Castiel’s insanity. Castiel’s not really sure which one it is. He picks up his pen and begins to fill out the plan of action and goals the doctor asked for him this morning. Just writing the plan is enough to make his shake all over. Its many hours later before Castiel’s hands stop trembling. 

Goal number one is just to be able to walk outside to the mailbox. He refuses to admit, even to himself, but he’s waiting for a letter from Dean. 

*****  
Dean stares at the blank paper in front of him for what seems like hours. 

He wants to write something down, frankly he feels sort of obligated, but every time he tries it’s like the thoughts get bunched up in his head and they just won’t come out right. 

This Novak guy is going to think he’s an ungrateful asshole if he doesn’t write _something_ back to thank him for the help with his legal situation. 

But if Dean just starts scrawling out crap on the paper he’s going to think Dean is an idiot. Dean’s not sure why it bothers him so much. It’s not like they’re friends or have ever officially met, for that matter. But still, he sort of wants to impress the guy. 

Castiel Novak’s obviously loaded, from the amount of money he poured into Dean’s defense. He’s clearly well-educated too, based on his letters. 

Dean looks to the side where he keeps his mail stuffed up under his bunk. Castiel’s written him once a month since his sentence started. Dean has six unanswered letters haunting him all hours of the day and night. He has no idea how to reply without sounding like a complete dumb ass.

It’s not like he has a lot to talk about in prison. Every moment of every day of his life is tightly controlled by other people. Dean eats when he’s told to eat and sleeps when he’s told to sleep. He almost has to shit on demand. The one bright spot in his regulated day is the hour spent out in the high walled courtyard to exercise. 

He enjoys it, but it’s not like being free. The other day he actually felt sunlight on his skin from over the wall for the first time since he was shot. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed that warm desert caress against his once tanned skin. 

He wishes he had never been reminded how good it felt. He misses that warmth so much he can taste it. There are still two and half years before he will even have the chance of finding a warm patch of grass, stripping off his shirt, and sunning himself there until he burns to a crisp. 

Dean used to think that as long as he didn’t lose Sam he would be okay. He thought there wasn’t anything else he needed to hang onto. But it’s the holes left by the little things, the things he never considered as important that blacken his soul most. 

Dean’s been locked up almost ten months counting the time he spent awaiting trial. He’s starting to forget that there’s more out there. That there is more to the world than what he sees within these thick walls. He needs a reminder. A tentative lifeline. Just someone he can talk to and hear from and maybe…take some small comfort in. 

He can’t do that with Sam. Sam’s struggling to keep it together on his own out there. He’s still sending letters asking for advice, or to complain to Dean. Sam’s still counting on his big brother to give him emotional support the way he always has. Dean doesn’t blame him; he’s never expressed to Sam how isolated and afraid he actually is. He’s never going to either. Sam’s not supposed to worry about him. Dean's the big brother here, and so it’s his job to take care of Sam. It’s always been the other way around and Dean’s not changing that up for anything. 

He doesn’t have anyone else. Dean always kept his distance because of his job and because of his duty to keep Sam safe

But this guy, Castiel just keeps writing. It’s weird since he’s never really ask any questions so it’s like he sort of assumed Dean’s not going to ever write back. But Dean wants too. He’s been concerned in the last two months that if he doesn’t respond in some way then Castiel will stop writing and he doesn’t want that. 

He doesn’t want to miss the letters like he misses the desert sun. 

That more than anything else gives him the strength to respond. 

He sighs, picks up his pencil and with a shaking hand scrawls:

_Mr. Novak,_

_Thank you for your help, and your letters. I don’t know what to say to you. I’ve been trying to write this one particular letter for hours and this is what I managed to come up with. Pretty pathetic, huh?_

_Look, I don’t really have a lot of exciting things to talk about given the situation. But I appreciate you writing me, and honestly, I don’t think I could stand it if you stopped._

_So just…don’t stop, okay?_

_Dean_

He folds it in an envelope and leaves it on his bed. It’s addressed, and he has stamps thanks to Sam being willing to put a little money on the books for him so they can write to each other. Dean has a pang of guilt for using one of the stamps Sam bought to mail something to someone else but it can’t be helped. 

When mail call comes by, he takes it over and drops it off to be sent. Then he tries not to think about it again. 

The problem is that there’s not a whole lot to keep Dean’s brain occupied. He’s got nothing but time to worry. 

*****

Castiel stands on the porch as Gabriel watches him at the end of the driveway. Its slow going, but he can get down the steps now, let go of the railing, and even take a few shuffled steps across to the driveway without feeling like he’s going to have a panic attack. 

Expose therapy is very painful, and exhausting. The progress is slow and Castiel’s frustrated with himself much of the time. Medication would help, but the combination of prescription drugs keep him so flat that he can’t feel anything at all. Castiel wants to feel, _needs_ to be able to feel.

He just doesn’t want to feel so afraid. 

There are still other meds. He has ones he can take as needed to dull the pressure that crawls along the back of his spine. They are highly addictive when used improperly and Castiel won’t often chance it. His mother was the poster child for prescription pill addiction before she overdosed in Castiel’s home five years ago. 

Castiel clutched the porch railing. He can’t think about how he found her like that right now, or he’ll be back in his bed screaming faster than Gabriel could reach him.

Castiel knew that once his mother lost her battle with mental illness, he'd lost the rest of his life as well. He hadn't even needed an expensive therapist to tell him that. 

“Hey!” Gabriel barks from the end of the driveway. Castiel jumps at the sound and his knees start to shake. “You’re not going to believe this. I know I fucking don’t.”

“What?” Castiel manages to croak as he turns his focus on Gabriel. Around him the world starts to close in around him, dark and ominous bit by bit. 

He’s starting to telescope; he’s going to have to turn around. 

“You’ve got mail,” Gabriel calls out, holding up a letter like a flag. 

The world stops shrinking. Castiel’s attention is caught on what his brother is holding aloft in his hand. “Give it to me,” Castiel orders gruffly as he holds out his hand for the prize. 

And his brother, his fiercely loyal, asshole trickster of a brother, shoves the letter back in the mailbox, and slams the lid shut with a bang.

“Come and get it, yourself, Cassie.” 

It takes half an hour, but in the end, Gabriel holds Castiel’s trembling body close to his chest as they walk back to the house on unsteady legs. Castiel’s crying, clinging to his sibling with the precious letter in his hands the whole time. Gabriel’s smile is so wide it looks like his face might break. 

It’s been three years since Castiel’s made it to the mailbox without clinging to his brother. He’s exhausted, but very proud. 

Gabriel helps Castiel down to his apartment and onto his bed. The older Novak decides they should celebrate and goes off to make them dinner to rival a celebrity chef. Castiel appreciates the effort though he suspects his brother is leaving him alone so he can read the letter in peace. 

Even in the safety of his own space, Castiel’s afraid to open it. Dean’s never responded to his correspondence before. A very large part of him is sure the letter is just a note to tell him to leave Dean alone.

By the time he gets it open and has read it five times he’s enormously relieved…and pleased. 

Dean enjoys his letters and he wants Castiel to continue them. He lies back in the center of his bed for a long time with the letter pressed to his chest. 

Someone wants him. Maybe even needs him. It’s been a very long time since Castiel was useful, since Castiel had even the possibility of a friend. Companionship is something he’s denied himself due to the nature of his condition. Without the ability to go out Castiel’s found that his friends, once willing to visit, soon become frustrated by his inability to join them in life on the outside of his four walls. Eventually they simply stopped contacting him. There are only so many personal milestones and tragedies you can miss before people’s feelings get hurt. Even though it’s not a lack of wanting to participate on his part that keeps Castiel trapped in the house, the end result is just the same. The world goes out without him. 

He’s been very lonely. 

Normally, he only writes Dean on the fifteenth of every month. It’s like a personal reward to himself for continuing his therapy; a special reminder that this emotionally draining work has a purpose. His therapist at first asked numerous questions about his contact with Dean but over the course of their work together it’s become less of a topic for discussion. Not that it was ever up for debate to begin with. Castiel had made it clear from the beginning his contact with Dean, however limited or one-sided it might be, would not be stopping unless _Dean_ asked him to. 

He has two years and five months before Dean’s parole hearing. Every second counts since Castiel plans to be there in person. 

He rubs the back of his hand over the crisp paper one more time before cleaning up for dinner. Today is the first time he really believes he can accomplish his goals. 

*****

_Castiel,_

_I’m sorry I don’t write more often. You asked me a question last month about why I was so fixated on my roommate’s chips. I figured you probably don’t understand how jail works. So here’s the short and long of it all. They do feed us three times a day, but we also have like a very tiny convenience store in here. You can buy playing cards, snacks, stamps, stuff like that there. Little things that sort of make life more bearable. Chuck’s girl, Becky, she puts money in his account, or on the books, for him all the time. So he always has a stash of good stuff. I don’t have anyone outside of here but my brother and Sam’s in college and broke so he gives me just enough money for stamps and I use one of those stamps a month to mail you._

_I feel guilty about it actually, but I don’t want to stop talking to you._

_Anyway, Chuck knows I love Cheetos. When I wrote you last month he was rubbing it in my face that he had some and I didn’t. But I can’t afford them. So I guess it’s a good thing you can’t die from a lack of snacks._

_There’s not a lot of food from outside that I really miss. I never cared too much about eating. It’s not like my brother and I had a home cooked meal ever. But for some reason, Cheetos and pie….man, I’m dying for one of those. I think when I get out of here I’m just going to go straight to the first bakery I can find and buy a pie and eat the whole damn thing._

_I just re-read what I wrote you and it makes me sound insane. Whatever, I’m too tired to start over again. This is like the third version of this letter anyway. Writing you makes me nervous._

_So, yeah, that’s why I don’t write more often. But seriously I’m grateful you’re starting to write more. Sam only gets a chance to send me a note here and there when he’s not studying and I understand that. So it’s nice to hear from you._

_I don’t really get out much. (I’m trying to be funny. How am I doing so far?) But I figure we need something to talk about so have you ever read Slaughter House five? I’m working on reading it again right now so it’s pretty fresh in my mind. Other than that, for fun I mostly used to work on cars. When I was growing up my dad had this awesome 1967 Chevy Impala. He used to teach me all about it when I was kid and how to maintain it. So I know a lot about cars. I’m good at working on them too. Sometimes I think I should work on my GED while I’m in here and see if I can pick up some trade stuff. Maybe I could make something of myself that way. I was never good at school; I was bored most of the time._

_They said I was un-invested. They were probably right._

_Do you like cars?_

_Between that and Dr. Sexy my time was pretty well taken up. But obviously I’ve missed the end of last season and all of this one. So I don’t really have a clue what’s going on now. It’s sad too, I wouldn’t admit this to anyone but you but I was really hoping to find out who the father of Nurse Teresa’s baby was._

_Hell, by the time I get out of here the show will have been cancelled so I guess it doesn’t matter._

_What about you? What do you do? You write me a lot but you never really say much about yourself. I’m kind of at a loss here._

_I have to go, it’s getting close to mail time here and I want to get this headed out today._

_Dean_

*****

_Dean,_

_You’re probably aware by now that I’ve place some money “on the books” for you. I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner. I was actually aware of that particular issue. As you may know, Gabriel spent six months in the same jail several years ago for a drug related crime. He’s in recovery now, and will be very irritated with me for sharing that little bit of information with you should he ever find out._

_So don’t tell him._

_I was unaware you had such a small family, Dean. I’m sorry. From now on you won’t need to use your brother’s stamps to write me. I didn’t wish to cause friction or hardship between brothers._

_To answer your questions, I have read Slaughter House Five, but it was quite a long time ago. If you were interested in discussing it I would gladly read it again. Then we could talk about our impressions._

_If you would like it’s possible I could keep you informed of the progress of your television show as well. For instance Nurse Teresa was not actually pregnant, it was a false pregnancy brought on by a mental health issue; though I’m fairly certain that particular mental issue isn’t as common as the show has made it out to be. Nor would a person suffering from such a delusion be able to maintain her emotional state in such a high stress environment as a hospital emergency room._

_The wonders of television, I suppose. In any case, if you would like me to update you about the shows progress I’d be willing to do that. In return, I was hoping maybe you would be willing to educate me about motor vehicles._

_I’m afraid that I am utterly inept when it comes to mechanics and thus far in my lifetime have never even successfully changed a tire. I would need you to start with the basics but I’m a willing student and feel I would benefit greatly from your knowledge base. Would this be an acceptable trade for you?_

_As far as information about myself…Dean, I’m afraid I have not been entirely honest with you. I suffer from severe anxiety, often leading to panic attacks. In the last few years I have been unable to work or even leave the house when my condition is at its agoraphobia. My condition is the reason I was unable to actually go to court for you during your trial._

_It’s also why you were unaware of my being in the house the day we met. Until that day I had not left Gabriel’s home in almost a year. I was too afraid._

_I’m currently in a kind of therapy; it uses exposure to stimuli in order to reduce my anxiety about going out. In layman’s terms this means that since your conviction I’ve been slowly working my way out of the house. I’ve made it to the point I can walk to the mailbox and back unassisted. My therapist assures me this is good progress. I’m frustrated by how slowly things are changing._

_You probably think I’m crazy now, don’t you?_

_I’ve been very concerned about telling you about me. In fact, I’m tempted to just rip this up and start over, but I feel I owe you the truth about me. So there it is._

_Castiel_

***** 

**Year Two**

_Cas,_

_I can’t believe you sent me that book for my birthday._

_Seriously, dude, what the fuck?_

_I know we’ve work our way through a bunch of the classics and the entire Harry Potter series, but sending me Twilight as a birthday present could get me shanked!_

_I can’t really argue with you, it _is_ your turn to pick…and I know you have to get me back for all the crap I gave you about The Outsiders. You were right too, I can admit it now, I did end up liking it by the time it was all said and done. _

_I am _not_ going to be telling you the same thing after this book though. So don’t hold your breath. You are such a girl sometimes. _

_I’m glad to hear your therapy’s going so well. Though I got to tell you, Man, your rendition of that trip you took with Gabriel to the grocery store had me laughing so hard I almost wet my pants. Did you seriously think about trying to crawl up under the banana display and hide? And then when you guys got to the check out and neither of you had your wallets and he had to hold your hand back to the car? Holy shit, I know you were trying to be funny but I still feel kind of bad laughing at you._

_I hate that it’s all such a struggle for you. I can’t tell you what I wouldn’t give to be able to go to the store._

_I guess maybe I’m a little jealous._

_The things you’re scared of, the things you’re struggling so hard to do? Those are the things I would kill for right now._

_We never really talk about it….what happened the day we met. I don’t know why you never bring it up. I’m sorry, Cas. I had lived this life where I only ever thought about me and Sam. I justified stealing from people because I was careful to follow the rules to make sure no one would be home. I never thought about the people that owned those houses and how violated they must have felt when they came home and all of their things were gone._

_Then there’s you. I still have nightmares about that day. I see your face in my dreams and you look so scared and it’s all because of me. You would have been safe if I was a better person, Cas. I don’t know what to say to you about that._

_I wish I knew what you looked like when you aren’t thinking you’re about to die. I don’t know why but I’ve been thinking about that more and more often._

_I thought if I could make it through one year here the rest would be easy. I thought the ache for all the things I miss would get easier or something._

_But it’s worse. The small things, the things I can’t tell people about because they would think I was stupid or weak. Those things hurt more everyday. I hurt more. This time just keeps getting harder._

_I think I probably deserve it though. The things I’ve done to all those families…to you. I should hurt. Losing my freedom reminds me of all the things I’ve taken from people._

_I wonder why you still write me sometimes._

_Dean_

*****

_Dean,_

_I write you because you’re my friend. Honestly, you’re my only friend. But even if that were not the case, you are still a better friend to me than any others I have counted in my lifetime._

_You help me maintain a sense of perspective about my illness. Now, when I’m anxious and testing the waters of being outside I often think of you. When I want to run and hide I think of you laughing at me. Not because you’re being cruel but because what I’m frightened of is really of no consequence._

_I’ve enclosed a recent picture of myself. I feel sort of odd about it, mostly because I wonder the same thing about you sometimes. In my head, I still see you pale and bleeding out on my carpet._

_I can’t talk about it too much. When I think about it too hard I start to lose it._

_I wish you were with me. I know that sounds strange, but there are moments when I accomplish something particularly difficult for me and I turn around hoping you’ll be there._

_On the other hand, I’m endlessly frustrated by how difficult these simple tasks are._

_I think perhaps you would not continue to be my friend if you were free in the world. I’m still so much a prisoner of my own mind._

_I hate that I got to this point in my condition so effortlessly, but the climb back out is so hard it makes me feel like my soul is bleeding._

_The world shrinks so much faster than it grows._

_I don’t know what you miss, Dean. But maybe it would help you if you speak of it to someone. Let me tell you what I miss and maybe then it will be easier for you._

_I miss running outside. I still like to run, but I use a treadmill now. Once upon a time there was nothing I enjoyed more than the feel of my feet hitting the pavement and the breeze against my skin._

_I miss going to the movies, sitting in the theater and eating popcorn out of a giant bucket until I have butter up to my elbows._

_I miss working in the garden. I wasn’t very good at it, really. But I enjoyed the feeling of the earth in my bare hands and the feeling of accomplishment when something I planted took root and grew._

_More than that, I miss companionship. I miss having a partner and finding simple physical comfort with them. I don’t mean sexually, though I must admit it’s been a very long time since I’ve experienced the act of making love. I think it’s not the actual sex I miss so much as those moments afterwards, when I was still relaxed and content. When I could reach out in the darkness to run my hands over the skin of the person with me and really feel like I belonged with them._

_I’m….lonely, honestly; just really, terribly, lonely._

_I’m not sure I’ve ever said that so plainly before, not even to my therapist._

_I don’t think you took anything from me, Dean. I think your actions that day gave me a window to see all the things I had taken from myself._

_Of course, I can’t speak for the other homes you took from. However, I don’t judge you for your actions, any more than I hope you don’t judge me for my shortcomings._

_On a lighter note, I think perhaps my book choice ended up being a joke on both of us….I’m finding it difficult to suffer through. I never enjoyed high school and looking back on it I find the perspective of a teenage girl to be….disturbing._

_Castiel_

*****

_Cas,_

_This book sucks._

_Seriously, I don’t know why either of us is still reading it. I feel like I’m growing a uterus. Though, now that I think about it, if I did manage to grow one of those I would be way more popular around here._

_Bad joke, seriously, really bad joke._

_I’m sorry my handwriting sucks worse than normal. I had…an altercation with someone who was trying to be a little too friendly with my roommate and I broke my hand on the guy’s face._

_Before you ask, I’m fine. I have some cuts and bruises, a few stitches from the ink pen the guy had on him but I’m fine and because he was armed and attacking Chuck it’s not going to count against my time served._

_Things are rough in here sometimes, man. Especially for the little guys and I’m done standing around and letting people get taken advantage of. I want to be a better person than that._

_I’d still be your friend even if I had a life outside of incarceration, Cas. You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met. And you’re brave as fuck, too. I really admire you. What you’re going through…it’s so hard._

_You don’t give yourself enough credit._

_I’m into running too. Not on a treadmill or anything but around the yard in a big circle. It’s that or lift weights and I don’t want to end up looking like those guys who have arms so thick they can’t hold their dick when they pee. Maybe we can work a way to going on a run together when this is all said and done. Or a movie…shit I nearly came in my pants just thinking about the movie popcorn. Damn that stuff is so good._

_It’s that or nothing I guess since I’ve never tried to garden, and I’m pretty sure sex is off the table._

_Besides, between you and me…I’ve never really stuck around long enough after sleeping with someone to know what you’re talking about exactly. But maybe making love with someone and just having sex with them is more different than I thought. I’ve never really had a relationship with someone like that. I’ve always been focused on something else._

_Reading what you wrote about missing it…makes me think maybe I should have paid more attention when I was outside. You make it sound really appealing. But then again around here I always have my guard up. I can’t really trust anyone here. It’s not safe._

_I just want to do my time and come home._

_Problem is I don’t know where home is anymore. Sam’s away at college and he’s got his own life. He met this really nice girl, her name’s Jessica. He’s writing me about her more and more. I’m thinking it’s probably serious. He usually doesn’t talk much about stuff like that._

_I don’t want to mess up the life he’s working on right now. I’m kind of lost about the whole “once I get out” thing actually. I guess it’s a good thing I have so much more time to think about it._

_I miss beer. I know it’s pathetic; I wasn’t an alcoholic or anything. I don’t want you to think that. I just used to like to have one every so often, while I was watching the game or something. Just not being able to get my hands on it reminds me where I am._

_I’m starting small here; I’m working up to something. Hang in here with me._

_I miss sleeping naked. I know, too much information but I’m hot all the damned time in these clothes and I never feel like I’m rested no matter how much I sleep._

_I miss homemade pie. God, Cas, I love me some pie. You have no idea. They have some kind of crap they call cobbler here and really, it’s offensive. I’m personally pissed off by them even thinking it might be close to the pie family. These people have no taste._

_Or taste buds I guess._

_I miss the sun; I want to be able to soak it up until I’m one giant big freckle._

_And….I can’t believe I’m going to write this._

_I miss kissing. Not the kind of kiss you give your brother either. I miss getting in there and working someone’s mouth open, having their tongue rubbing up against mine. I miss taking my time and making out with someone, not feeling like everything has to happen right now. I never really hung around when it was over, but I took my time getting there._

_Maybe I just miss being wanted, feeling something other than tense and afraid._

_You probably think I’m crazy._

_Cas…I’ve been wanting to ask you…but I still don’t feel right about it. So look, I just want you to know, if you ever want to tell me about how you ended up where you are. I would listen. Or read, I guess you know what I mean._

_You can tell me…if you need too, if you think it will help you._

_Anyway, I’ve had Chuck transcribe the details of the inside of the engine that you and I have been talking about because my hand is jacked. You can look over it and tell me if you think it makes any sense. The sketches are as close as I can get to what I think the engine on your brother’s car looks like._

_Dean_

*****

**Year Three**

_Dean,_

_You shall be thrilled to know that after two years of hard work and with your help I was finally able to successfully prank my brother. As well as win a bet with him for five thousand dollars._

_When you come home, we’re going to celebrate. I’m counting half of this money as yours, since I would never have been able to do this without your help._

_Gabriel was seriously impressed with my ability to perform maintenance work on his vehicle and while doing it correct that annoying knocking noise that appeared suddenly in his engine four months ago._

_Of course, he never needs to know I’m the one that put the knocking noise there in the first place._

_I wish you could have seen his face, Dean! He stood there for hours while I worked and the longer I took, the more his cocky grin slid off his face._

_In the end I told him I wanted the money in cash only, small bills. He threw the bag full of it at my head, he was so mad!_

_Oh it was priceless, I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time._

_The only thing that would have made it better would have been if you could have been there with me. I was overwhelmed with the urge to….well….hug you, I suppose._

_Physical affection has never been an easy thing for me. But I don’t think I would have hesitated to throw my arms around you at that point._

_I was just so damn happy._

_In other news, I don’t know how they’re going to make Breaking Dawn into a movie with a PG-13 rating. I went back and suffered through the book for a second time and the level of how graphic it is….I’m at a loss._

_Promise me you will not want to watch these films when you get out. I’m serious, Dean, best friend or not you will be on your own if you choose to view them. I’ll take the blame for the books but enough is enough._

_Also, I’ve enclosed a few pictures from the trip I went on with Gabriel last weekend. I know I hadn’t spoken to you about it before hand. Honestly, I was concerned I was not going to be able to follow through with the plans._

_In the end I’m sad to say I had to take some medication I usually choose to avoid in order to make the trip and still sit through the program, but it was worth it._

_I’ve spoken to Sam a number of times in the past two years. I’m not sure I’ve told you that before. Your brother is a joy, Dean. You did well by him. I know you’ve been very upset about having to miss Sam’s college graduation and him having no family there to cheer him on. I’m not sure if Gabriel and myself count as family, but we were there for him and we screamed as loudly as we could in your stead._

_It was interesting. I’m going to be honest and admit that it was probably over the limit of what I feel capable of really handling. If you can’t tell from the pictures, I look altered._

_Sam understood and Jessica is a psychology major so it wasn’t as big of a deal as I feared it would be._

_You will like her very much, Dean. She has a good spirit about her. They are very much in love. Sam plans to propose soon, and he believes they will plan to marry in the winter, so long as you are there to stand at his side._

_I’m going to make certain you’re available, Dean. You have my word on that._

_It’s five more months until your hearing, I _will_ be ready. _

_You asked me once how I became like this….I never answered. Not for lack of wanting to tell you or for lack of trust. It’s just difficult for me to think about, even now and having to write it out for you makes it seem so much closer to me than what it really is._

_I was always anxious. Not the way I am today, by any means, but as a child I was timid, hesitant, nervous._

_I grew up without a father; he left shortly after I was born. Gabriel is four years older than I am. It’s from him that I have always gotten much of my comfort._

_My mother and I had a strained relationship. I’m going to skip the details as they no longer matter but suffice it to say she didn’t appreciate my life choices. I married young, my high school sweetheart. My mother didn’t approve. I left college to go into culinary school._

_Did I ever tell you prior to my condition worsening I was a pastry chef? I have a wonderful recipe for blackberry pie, Dean. You’re going to love it._

_I’ve also offered to make Sam’s wedding cake. It can be my gift to them, if they choose to accept it. It will also help save them a large expense at their wedding._

_I’m rambling…. Sorry, this is hard for me to talk about._

_Anyway, my mother was very ill, Dean. I think, looking back on it all now she must have suffered some form of the same condition that I have; though her way of dealing with it involved a large amount of alcohol and prescription narcotics._

_At the end of her life, she came to live with me and my wife so that I could care for her. We argued that day. I’m not sure I remember about what now. It wasn’t anything important I suppose. I went to work and stayed late into the night there, not wanting to come home to the tension between my mother and my wife._

_When I arrived at the house it was almost the next morning. I went to check on my mother and couldn’t find her. When I woke my wife to ask she told me my mother had been locked in the bathroom for hours and wouldn’t answer her. So she had gone to bed._

_In my wife’s defense, that was a fairly typical behavior for my mother. But at the time, I was so angry. I ended up having to knock the door off its hinges to get into the bathroom; by the time I did…my mother was gone._

_They said she had been saving her pills, that she must have been planning it for a long time._

_I still have vivid memories of giving her CPR, of how cold she was._

_My wife told me after the funeral that she was relieved. That now we could go back to the way we were before._

_But I couldn’t. Every time I left the house I was overwhelmed with fear that something terrible would happen while I was gone. Ever outing became a struggle. I was fixated on the idea that if I had just stayed home that night I could have stopped her from killing herself._

_I left my job, stopped going out. My wife eventually left me._

_Gabriel took me in after he came to visit and found my life had fallen apart around me. You know the rest._

_It’s a slow climb out for me, Dean._

_So there it is._

_So, on a lighter note…_

_I want to ask you about when you get out._

_Do you have any plans for where you’re going?_

_I’m asking because after speaking to Sam and Gabriel I was wondering if you might be interested in coming here…with me?_

_That was incredibly difficult to write. I’m exhausted by this letter._

_Be well my friend._

_Castiel_

*****

_Cas,_

_There’s a lot in your last letter I want to respond too._

_But first…I don’t ever want writing me to be hard for you. Nothing you’re going to tell me is going to make you not my friend._

_I suck at this shit, Cas. Like, if we were together right now, I wouldn’t be able to say this stuff to you. I’d just keep it all bottled up inside and hope you were somehow able to figure out what I’m trying to say._

_I don’t want you to get your hopes up for when I get out. I guess I give way better letter than I do in real life._

_So yeah, about when I get out…Are you sure? I mean, I know we’ve been writing like a shit ton for years now but I’m not sure how that’s going to translate into us actually being in the same room together._

_What if you hate me?_

_I don’t want to lose your friendship, Cas. You’re family, you mean a lot to me._

_But then, I guess don’t really want to just write letters to you for the rest of my life either so something’s got to give._

_If you’re sure about it, I’ll come._

_But I’m going to work and pay rent and crap just like I would anywhere else._

_And you are **totally** going to have bake for me…like all the time. _

_You just keep getting better dude. Seriously, every time I learn something new about you it’s like even more epic than the last thing._

_Sometimes I don’t think you’re really human, Cas._

_About the graduation….you look stoned!_

_I laughed so hard at the pictures; Sam is like a giant over you guys. I can’t thank you enough for going. It’s like the best gift anyone has ever given me. I know it was hard for you. I wish I could explain to you how good you made me feel just knowing Sammy hadn’t been alone._

_I had to go to the infirmary and have the nurses lock me in the private room for a while so I could cry it out without people seeing me._

_I guess making friends with them really has come in handy._

_I just…fuck Cas. You made me love you so much doing that. You’re the best friend ever._

_I don’t deserve you._

_Thanks for telling me about your life. I’m sorry you’ve had to go through so much. You didn’t deserve it. Cas, you’re like the best person I have ever met in my life. It really sucks that you’ve had to hurt so much and be so lonely._

_I wish I could make it better for you, make you forget all the things you’re scared of and have you see yourself as strong I think you are._

_If I could give you a little bit of my bad attitude I think you’d be just fine. I hate that it doesn’t work that way._

_I guess you know by now, they moved up my parole hearing. There’s a serious overcrowding problem here and they picked a bunch of inmates with non-violent offenses who have shown good behavior a chance to get out early. I was one of the guys. I owe that to you, if you hadn’t gotten them to wipe your assault charge off my record I wouldn’t have been eligible._

_You’re like my guardian angel or some shit._

_So two months and I get to see you in person. I actually kind of think I’m looking forward to that more than I am the hearing. Weird._

_Dean_

*****

_Dean,_

_I don’t know why I thought they would send you home with me today._

_I think the rational part of me understood there would be procedures to follow and plans to make. But in my heart, I just….really wanted my friend._

_I drove Gabriel crazy the whole way to the courthouse. Then I spent the hour before your hearing pacing back and forth between my brother and yours._

_It wasn’t like the way I used to feel. Back then, it was like the world was going to come to an end any second. Today it was just this knot of tension in the pit of my stomach and all I could think about was how hard I had worked to be there for this moment and how important what I was about to do might be._

_And then they walked you into the courtroom and I forgot everything but you._

_You…look good in orange._

_Not so much in cuffs though, Dean. We need to make sure you never have to wear those again._

_I think all this time I’ve had this picture in my head of you bleeding all over my carpet and so to see you healthy and well took me by surprise._

_You looked vibrant._

_I could hear Sam breathing beside me like he was running and I sympathized with him so much. I can’t imagine how hard it was for him. He’s your brother, you’ve only been in my life three years and it took everything I had to not run up to you and throw my arms around you and try to protect you from whatever was coming._

_I almost don’t remember testifying on your behalf. It didn’t feel real._

_Then, they said you could go and for one crazy second I was waiting for them to un-cuff you and for you to walk over to us to ride home with us._

_When they took you back to the holding cell I don’t think I managed it well. Gabriel said Sam almost had to carry me to the car. I’m not really sure what happened. The next thing I remember Gabriel pulled off the road and Sam rubbing my back while I puked out the back passenger door._

_I hurt all over. Usually that means the panic attack was pretty bad._

_I hope I didn’t shame you._

_In any case, Gabriel spoke to the attorney while Sam was dragging me to the car. We’ve been assured your release date has been set for October twentieth. Less than a month from now, so I’ll be spending the time cleaning out the spare room for you and practicing my pie making skills._

_I also need to set some more goals for myself, therapy wise._

_I believe my next one will be attending Sam’s wedding without being, as you so kindly say…stoned._

_I’ll have to do some more work on being in crowds for that. It seems a bit daunting to me actually. Hearings and graduations are one thing…they don’t require me to mingle._

_I’m hopeless at small talk, I always assume the people I’m talking to are aware of how terrified I am and therefore think poorly of me._

_Days like today, I really hate being ill._

_It was good to see you, Dean._

_Castiel_

*****

_Cas,_

_I’m glad you’re okay. I was worried about you._

_You didn’t make a scene, if that’s what you’re worried about. You just kind of went on autopilot, I guess._

_When they were taking me back in I was trying to get your attention so you would know I was alright. But you were just….blank._

_I’m glad they got you home okay. I’m sorry it was so hard for you._

_Look, Cas. I’m not going to mail you this letter, but I need to write the shit in my head down. So I’m going to write this and then keep it in case I decide to show it to you later or something. And once it’s out then I’m going to write you something else all goofy and reassuring so you don’t worry, or catch onto how much of a freak I am._

_It’s time I was honest about this._

_I don’t think we’re really friends, Cas. I mean, not in the way you think we are._

_I saw you in the courtroom and I wanted to touch you so bad. You look…Jesus…you look like home to me._

_I don’t want to just be your friend anymore. I’m not sure how else to say it without sounding like a character out of the Twilight books._

_Somewhere, along the way as we were getting to know each other I think I stepped off the friendship bus._

_I don’t miss just kissing, Cas. I’ve been lying to you for a while. Shit, like a year I guess. I miss kissing **you.** or rather the idea of kissing you. It would be hard to miss something I’ve never had. Though I do have this vague memory of you giving me mouth to mouth at your house the day we met. Maybe I’m just dreaming that. _

_What I’m trying to say is I love you, but not like I love Sam, or a friend._

_I want to be the person you’re in bed with, after making love, touching. It scares the hell out of me._

_I’ve never been in love before, much less with a guy._

_Fuck, I’m not even sure you’re gay…or bi…or whatever the fuck you would have to be to be stupid enough to want to hook up with a convicted felon like me._

_I mean being my quirky best friend is one thing, Cas. Being the love of my life is a whole different role and maybe you don’t want to audition._

_What is it with me and all these shitty euphemisms?_

_I blame you that I can even spell that word, by the way._

_So look, I’m going to come live with you and I’m going to find out if maybe this thing in my heart is just circumstantial. If it is then okay, you’ll never know I want you and we can be friends._

_And if it’s not…then I got to figure out if it’s worth it to me to risk trying for more with you. I don’t want to lose you as my friend._

_I read your letters sometimes and I wonder if maybe there’s more there than what you’re writing on the page, like maybe there’s a message in between the lines._

_Maybe you feel the same way I do and you don’t know how to say it either._

_I wish I was brave enough to risk it, Cas. But I’m not, I’m not at all._

_I’m not brave like you._

_Dean_

He reads it three times before folding it up and stuffing it at the bottom of the box he keeps Castiel’s letters in. Dean sighs as he looks at it, as though the box is looking back at him with disgust at his cowardice. 

“I’m not a coward,” Dean mutters to the box. “I’m just waiting. I’ve got to prove to him I’m worth loving. I have to make something out of myself before I tell him. He’s getting his life back; I need to wait for that to happen so he can pick me instead of just staying because he’s scared to go outside and find something better.”

Dean groans and rubs his hands over his face before picking up a blank sheet of paper and starting to write the letter he’s actually going to send. 

His gaze keeps returning to the box holding his deepest secret. “God,” Dean whispers softly. He doesn’t remember the last time he prayed as his eyes slip shut and he clenches his hand around the pen in his grasp. “Please, let him pick me.” 

*****

**Freedom – Year One**

It’s a cold day for Las Vegas when they release Dean. Castiel brings a jacket with them, just in case. 

Gabriel rolls his eyes as though he thinks his sibling is stupid, but he keeps silent as Sam drives them toward the jail. 

It feels like it takes forever. 

Castiel waits in the car, huddled in the backseat full of nervous tension and excitement. He’s had butterflies in his stomach for days and wasn’t able to sleep a wink last night. 

Gabriel gives up trying to converse with him as they wait after five or six minutes. Castiel isn’t able to pay attention to what he’s saying. Gabriel gets out and paces around the car in a circle as Castiel watches him through the window. Gabriel’s never been comfortable coming near the jail since he served his time here all those years ago. 

Castiel’s just grateful his sibling’s been able to maintain his sobriety. 

Gabriel has an investment in Dean coming home. He has a business proposition for Dean once he gets settled that Castiel believes would be beneficial to them both. The whole plan is a lot to think about, but it will have to wait for another time. Right now Castiel is absorbed with the idea that any minute now Dean will be walking out to the car to come home with him.

He’s going to get a chance to actually _talk_ to Dean. 

And he has no idea what he’s supposed to say. 

He’s a mess of nerves. 

The door on the other side of the backseat opens and Castiel feels a cool gust of wind skate over his face. He turns his head into it with his eyes closed. When he opens them again Dean is sitting on the other side of the backseat, watching him intently as he pulls the door shut behind him. 

Castiel waits for a beat, but neither Sam nor Gabriel return to the car. He can hear the gentle murmur of their voices outside where they lean against the trunk as they discuss where to take Dean out to eat first. 

Castiel opens his mouth, hoping to find some grand expression sitting on the tip of his tongue to describe how truly, unbelievably thrilled he is that Dean is free and sitting here in front of him. 

Nothing comes out. 

Dean flashes a grin, full of white teeth and joy before pushing a folded up sheet of paper across the seat toward him. Castiel cocks his head to the side in a silent question but he picks it up when Dean nods with encouragement and unfolds it to read the familiar scrawl:

_Hey Cas._

He looks up from the note into his friend's eyes and feels laughter bubbling up out of his chest for the first time in far too long. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel manages to force out through his laughter.

Castiel reaches out without thinking to touch Dean’s arm. It’s like a switched gets flipped in both of their heads. Castiel is launching himself across the seat towards Dean just as Dean tugs on Castiel’s hand to draw him close to bury his face in Castiel’s neck. They end up in a tight embrace.

“Been wanting to hug you for a long time,” Dean’s voice rumbles under his ear. 

Castiel squeezes him that much tighter as he whispers back, “Me too.” 

It’s a bit Twilight for his personal tastes but Castiel’s not able to even think of letting go. 

They finally force themselves apart when Sam and Gabriel slide back into the front seat. Dean’s cheeks are flushed and Castiel swipes at wetness on his own face. 

“So,” Dean blurts. “Where’s the buffet? I’m fucking starved.” 

They all laugh. Castiel’s hand slides across the seat until it rest between them on the leather. Dean reaches out to wrap his fingers around Castiel’s wrist and give him a gentle squeeze. 

“Don’t think I forgot,” Dean leans over and whispers. “I’m going to stuff myself at wherever we end up. But when we get home, you owe me pie.” 

Castiel’s not sure if it’s Dean’s voice or the touch which feels so good against his skin that makes him blush. “I was up all night baking,” he murmurs back. “I certainly hope you enjoy my efforts.”

“I already do,” Dean comments so quietly that Castiel’s certain he wasn’t meant to hear it. 

It makes his heart race, and desire pool in his groin. 

It hits him like a punch to the gut a second later. He’s attracted to Dean. 

He’s…always been attracted to Dean. 

He’s in love with Dean?

He needs to call his therapist first thing in the morning. 

*****

Sam and Gabriel finally decided on a small, family run buffet that was favored by the locals. The restaurant they chose had a good variety of food, but was still small with an open enough layout for both of their brothers’ sensibilities.

Even with all that planning, the foursome must have been a sight. Castiel trembled every time the waitress leaned over him to deliver drinks. Dean made them move the table around so he could sit with his back to the wall while keeping the door in sight and Castiel glued to his side. It must have looked like to the other patrons that Gabriel and Sam had just broke two lunatics out of the nut house and decided to buy them lunch.

That Dean and Castiel both jerked and ducked every time a door slammed or someone clanked their glasses together too hard didn’t help either.

Gabriel and Sam watched them both with a mixture of humor and concern. Dean was prepared for the discomfort of freedom. He knows it’s going to take him some time to relax now that he doesn’t have to constantly watch his back. He spent most of dinner with his leg pressed tightly to Castiel’s under the table, offering them both some simple comfort in being near each other. 

He’s surprised how comforting it actually was. Just the basic sense of having Castiel next to him made him breathe a little easier. The frequent, blue eyed gazes that his friend shot his direction made him smile, too. 

In turn, it seems his own smile makes Castiel blush and Castiel’s blush makes Dean think about doing other things to draw a blush from him. The mental image of those things makes happy things happen to Dean under the table.

Dean really needs to get a _firm_ grip on himself. 

Mentally, he means mentally!

Though the idea of going to Gabriel’s home, going to the room Castiel set up for him himself, and jacking off in private for the first time in years is _really_ appealing.

It’s been years since Dean has been able to take his time and enjoy it without worrying about being caught or forced into something more. 

He’d like to enjoy it in private with Castiel. 

Fuck! This is never going to work. 

By the time they get to Gabriel’s house that night Dean has decided that he and Castiel have made a very strange, if very entertaining pair. 

“Pie?” Castiel asks from the foot of the stairs. Dean follows Gabriel down the stairs from where he just stowed his belongings in his new room. He didn’t have a lot to put away since Sam couldn’t afford to store Dean’s belongings and pay for school. 

“I’d love some,” Gabriel grins as he playfully shoves past his sibling into the kitchen. 

“I was not addressing you,” Castiel snaps as he puts out his leg to trip Gabriel before he can make it to the counter where the _multiple_ pies are residing. It results in some good natured brotherly scuffling that Dean and Sam watch and laugh at. Castiel finally manages to pin his brother to the floor with a cheap prison move Dean knows Castiel learned from their letters. Gabriel gets up in a huff, but getting a whole strawberry cream pie to his self makes it all better. Gabriel takes a fork, his pie and goes to the adjacent living room to plop down on the sofa. 

Castiel starts to hand Sam his own personal pie and a fork. Sam stammers, his eyes following the fluffy pink concoction Gabriel is digging into, “But I only really like…”

“Pecan, yes I’m aware,” Castiel chuckles and then waits for Sam to look down and notice that’s what he’s holding. 

Sam shrugs and mutters, “Fuck it. I’m eating the pie.” 

Dean turns to hide his smile from Sam until his brother is settled in beside Gabriel on the sofa.

“Got anything special there for me?” Dean flirts, settling against the countertop, playfully leaning into Castiel’s personal space. He doesn’t mean anything by it, at least not right now. It just feels so good to be free he feels a little drunk on the possibility. 

He’s shocked when Castiel leans toward him and not away and rumbles deep in his throat, “Perhaps.” 

Dean flushes and jerks back. Castiel laughs at him before sputtering, “I apologize. Sometimes it’s difficult for me to remember we only know each other in writing. We seem so much more, well, intimate.”

And okay, Dean’s man enough to admit it, letter-Cas was hot, but in-person-Cas is like the sun…blazing. 

He nods, looking into Cas’ eyes. “I can appreciate that.” 

Pies in hand, apple for Dean and cherry for Cas; they trail over to the living room. Everyone ends up sitting on the carpet around the coffee table so they have something to put their full size pie tins on. 

Two hours later, they’ve worked their way through the second Iron Man movie and Dean is still making a feeble effort to eat.

“Are you seriously going to try and finish that?” Sam asks from where he’s sprawled on the loveseat, taking up every available space with his long limbs. 

“It’s my party,” Dean sing songs in reply. “And I’ll pie if I want too.” 

Gabriel chokes and has to run to the bathroom coughing. Castiel rolls his eyes and resolutely removes the mostly eaten pie from Dean’s grasp. 

“Hey!” Dean protests.

“You can finish it tomorrow,” Castiel assures him. “You have all the time in the world.” 

It feels weird for Dean to remember he actually does. 

Sam’s staying in the guest bedroom next to Dean’s room upstairs. As hard as it is for Dean to leave Castiel to his own devices he really wants to spend time with his brother. So it’s not until very late in the evening, or conversely, very early in the morning that Sam finally slips into sleep in the middle of talking to Dean about Jessica. 

Dean’s so tired. He could have fallen asleep hours ago, but the draw to wander through the house and down the steps to Castiel’s apartment is so strong he doesn’t even try to resist. 

Castiel’s awake and waiting for him, curled on his side in bed with a small lamp turned on beside his bed while he reads. Dean doesn’t recognize the book. 

“Are you holding out on me?” he asks as he plops down on the bed and pokes the book cover with his finger. 

Castiel smiles up at Dean. He folds the page down and tosses the book off the side of the bed and onto the floor. 

“Not at all,” he comments as he cocks his head up on his elbow. He regards Dean with a look holding so much affection Dean’s heart swell in his chest. “I read more slowly than you do, so I try to read ahead before sending you a copy. Though now, I suppose, I don’t have to worry about that.” 

“What, you just want to buy one and share?” Dean asks as he looks around Castiel’s downstairs apartment. “It looks different in here. New carpet?” 

“About three years ago, yes,” Castiel sighs and after a pause adds. “Some inconsiderate bastard bled all over the old one.” 

His tone is so solemn. 

Dean’s eyes snap to his and Dean’s relieved to see a tiny bit of mirth hiding in the blue depths. “You really are a big joker, aren’t you?” 

“Occasionally,” Castiel blushes. “I’m usually reserved when I first meet people, but this isn’t really are first meeting, is it?” 

“No,” Dean answers as he shifts on the bed until he’s sitting cross legged in his stocking feet. His shoes sit abandoned under the coffee table upstairs. “This is going a lot better than our first meeting too. You haven’t broken my arm and no one is trying to shoot me yet.” 

“Well there really wasn’t anywhere to go but up,” Castiel offers gently before swallowing and saying, “I’m glad you came to see me tonight.”

“Were you waiting up for me?” Dean asks. His fingertips nervously wander across the pattern in Castiel’s quilt. 

“Would you think it odd if I said yes?” Castiel questions as he traces his own way through the same pattern, his fingers dancing ever closer to Dean’s. 

“I’d be flattered,” Dean chuckled briefly then stops. He forgets how to breathe when their fingertips accidentally brush each other. 

“I was…hopeful,” Castiel answers, equally breathless as their fingers bump again, this time hard enough to stop their movements. Dean captures Castiel’s hand and rubs his thumb over the back in a rough caress. 

“Sammy just fell asleep,” Dean says by way of an answer. “He had a lot to tell me.”

“He’s your brother, Dean.” Castiel answers as he turns his hand over so Dean’s thumb brushes over his wrist. He shivers at that caress. “I can wait my turn.” 

“So I’m what?” Dean snorts. “A ride at Disney land or something?”

“Well,” Castiel smiles coyly as he replies. “I’ve never ridden you personally, but you do make the idea sound appealing.” 

“Holy shit,” Dean sputters as he brings his other hand up to swipe at his face. “The things you say, Cas.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel withdrawals his hand from Dean’s grasp, retreating in on himself. Dean misses his touch immediately. “I’m not usually so….forward.” 

“I don’t mind it,” Dean blurts. “It’s been a really long time since someone flirted with me. I’m just out of practice.” 

“And my gender doesn’t make you uncomfortable?” Castiel asks hesitantly his head cocked to the side as he regards Dean with serious eyes. 

“No,” Dean huffs. “Look, can we just leave it at me explaining I had already broadened my horizons _before_ jail? I might want to tell you about some other things later; I probably need to tell someone. But not tonight, okay?” 

Castiel’s hand trembles a little bit as he reaches up to brush it through Dean’s hair. “I think I understand.”

Dean’s trying to find a way to be smooth in asking for what he wants tonight. He’s interrupted by a huge yawn cracking across Castiel’s face. 

“Sorry, I’m keeping you up,” Dean said. 

“I didn’t sleep last night,” Castiel admits softly. 

“Nervous?” Dean asks even though he really hopes that’s not the case. 

“Too excited,” Castiel counters. 

Castiel shifts over in the bed like he’s making more room. Maybe it’s subconscious, maybe intentional. Dean can’t tell. But the open space on the bed calls to him, making him long to stay. 

“You need to sleep,” Dean shifts back and forth on the bed, trying to decide if he should go back to his room or see if Castiel might let him sleep next to him in the dark tonight. 

“Don’t go,” Castiel says quietly while he reaches over to turn out the light. “I want you close to me tonight. I feel like today’s been a dream and when the sun comes up you’ll be gone.”

“God,” Dean exhales sharply. “I hope to hell I’m here in the morning. My other options aren’t so hot.” 

“I’m not sure that’s funny,” Castiel comments. “But I thought you might want to sleep upstairs. I thought you said you missed sleeping naked.” 

“You mean I’m not allowed to sleep naked with you down here?” Dean teases. “No fair, Cas. I thought we had a more profound bond than mere clothing.”

“Hush, not on the first date,” Castiel admonishes without any real heat as he nudges Dean from under the quilt. “Come here. Sleep with me.”

Dean’s sliding down onto the so soft mattress next to Castiel without another thought. He presses his face into the pillow and inhales his friend’s scent. He shifts around a bit, trying to memorize the feel of the softness, the warmth, the contentment of being next to someone he cares about in a place he feels safe. It’s so good he can’t even put it into words. Once he’s finally settled in he feels Castiel shifting next to him in his sleep. His breathing is soft and even, as he curls into the curve of Dean’s body. 

There are layers of blankets and clothing between them, but for tonight, Dean can’t think of anything more perfect than this. 

“You’re so much better in person,” Dean whispers softly, hoping Castiel sleeps through him being a complete girl. “All of this is so much better than I imagined it was going to be. But you…what am I going to do about you, Cas?” 

Gratefully there’s no answer. But as Dean leans over to brush his lips carefully across the other man’s forehead Castiel shifts in his sleep and sighs happily.

“Dean.” 

*****

“I can’t believe your brother convinced people to let a convicted felon break into their houses and businesses just to prove their security isn’t good enough so he could turn around and sell a better system,” Dean chuckles as he lounges on the couch in Castiel’s apartment four months after he’s come home.

“Gabriel is very resourceful,” Castiel answers from inside his closet. “After the break in, ah, I mean, the day we met, it’s been an idea he’s played with. Who better to help him prove his new security set up is the best than the man who made home invasion a business? It doesn’t offend you, does it?”

“Hell no!” Dean snorts. “I’m just glad to have income. Honestly, I hated the actual robbery. It was the investigating and planning I got off on. I was like James Bond, you know? Even my probation officer thinks this is a good idea.”

“How is Mr. Singer?” Castiel questions as he rummages through his shirts, looking for something appropriate to wear. Or, more honestly, something Dean might like. More and more often, Castiel finds himself cataloging the clothing that seems to make Dean stare at him a little longer and pushing it to the front of his wardrobe. The fact that Dean’s wearing the grey/blue shirt Castiel mentioned he liked two weeks ago tells him Dean might be doing the same thing. 

“Bobby?” Dean smiles. “The old man is fine. I kind of miss him now that I don’t have to check in every week. But he still calls me to see if I’m keeping my head in the game. I actually like the guy. He's pretty cool, for law enforcement that is.” 

“I’m glad that pairing worked for you,” Castiel comments. “He did fine by Gabriel as well.”

“Are you ever coming out of there?” Dean calls as he sits up on the couch. “We’re going to be late, Cas.”

Castiel sighs; Dean has to know he’s stalling by now. Castiel has made significant improvements in his anxiety level these past four months. Ever since Dean’s been home and with him. They’ve gone out of the house together a number of times on small errands. Castiel has recently even managed a trip to the grocery store on his own without incident. 

He’s feeling better, stronger, nearly whole on the inside for the first time in years. He knows it’s due, in part, to Dean's companionship. Dean, who helps make breakfast in the morning and stays by his side often until they curl chastely together at night. The man has the will power of a saint. It’s all Castiel can do not to jump Dean almost every night.

But tonight is full of a different sort of stress. It’s Sam’s rehearsal dinner and bachelor party. That means having to mingle with Jessica’s family as well as going to a crowded bar in Freemont. 

He’s scared. 

“Is this acceptable?” he asks. Castiel steps out of the closet and tries to plaster on some false bravado. 

Dean stares at him in this way that makes Castiel want to run back into his closet. It’s full of too much intensity and focus. Like Castiel has suddenly become the center of his universe. He takes a step backwards and murmurs, “Clearly not. I’ll change.” 

But then Dean’s rushing toward him, grabbing his hands to pull him back out.

“No! No changing, you look….really good, Cas. Like date worthy kind of good. Don’t change a thing. People will be all over you.”

“That sounds….much more unpleasant than you mean it to sound, you are aware of that, aren’t you?” Castiel jokes as he smoothes out the front of his shirt with his trembling hands as Dean follows the movement with his eyes. 

Dean looks startled for a minute before a smile breaks over his face. Castiel can’t help but return it and he leans gratefully into the hug that Dean offers. Truth be told, if Castiel had his choice he would spend tonight at home with Dean. He would give up all his inhibitions and spend the night showing Dean how he really feels about him. Castiel is almost to the point of doing just that when Dean talks and breaks into his thoughts.

“You’re going to do great,” Dean assures him. “Gabriel will be there and I’ll keep an eye on you.”

It’s comforting, but they both know Dean has taken over Gabriel’s place as Castiel’s preferred companion. The only thing they may not agree on is what kind of companionship it is.

Dean has also taken over the role of leader in Castiel's exposure therapy. The outings with Dean have been as much fun as these stressful situations can be for him. Dean has a knack for picking things Castiel will enjoy with just the right about of people for his mental state. Castiel still much prefers the late nights when Dean wanders to his bedroom to curl up next to him in the darkness. It’s not an every night thing, but the anticipation of it a few times a week makes Castiel’s whole being feel warm. 

“You’ll be with Sam,” Castiel corrects gently as he pokes Dean in the ribs. “As it should be. This is your brother’s celebration.”

“But then who’s going to beat all the attractive, interested people off you?” Dean teases. “You know Gabriel won’t.” 

“I doubt that will be an issue,” Castiel snorts he’s well aware that he’s more of an acquired taste when it comes to romance. “Besides, I’m not interested in forming a romance right now.” 

Something in Dean’s face darkens at his words and Castiel feels his friend’s body tense up under his hands. He’s said something wrong, he’s just not sure what upset Dean so. 

“Of course you’re not,” Dean nods as he steps away with a forced friendly pat on the back. Castiel bites his lip, trying to decide what to do to make the horrible tension that’s built up so suddenly between them disappear. 

But Dean’s already crossing the room and picking up his jacket and keys from the couch. He goes to stand stiffly by the steps that head upstairs while he waits for Castiel to gather his belongings. Castiel feels panic bubble up through his chest. It’s not the crippling kind, just normal human fear that something important is about to slip away if he doesn’t stop it.

“I’m not interested in romance with someone else because I’m interested in _you_ ,” Castiel blurts. He feels like it’s a secret he’s hidden forever, once it’s out he feels lightheaded. 

Dean’s shoulders tense and he turns around slowly, wide eyed with his jaw flexing. “Cas?” 

“I’ve been discussing it with my therapist,” Castiel swallows before continuing. “I chose not to say anything to you until I was certain. I want for us to have a real relationship. I want to be able to ask you out on a date and take you somewhere public. I want to have a healthy and fulfilling relationship with you. I don’t want you to feel trapped here with me. I am making progress. It is achingly slow but I am putting in a great deal of effort, Dean. I need maybe a month or two more before I’ll feel stable enough to do this with you, if you’re interested. I hope you’re interested. The way you touch me sometimes, the way you look at me….tell me I don’t have the wrong idea.”

“I’ve been in love with you since before I got out of jail,” Dean interrupts him. Castiel gasps, shocked as a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the admission. “I have a letter I wrote upstairs in my stuff to prove it. I can go get it you want.” 

“If you show me the letter we won’t make it to the party tonight,” Castiel answers gruffly. He shivers at the idea of it, desire stronger than he’s felt in years pumping through his veins. “I’m just a man, Dean. There’s only so much I can stand.” 

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean breathes as he steps closer to him with passion and intent shining in his eyes. “I want to kiss you so bad right now.” 

“Please don’t,” Castiel chokes out even though it’s what he wants more than anything in his life. “I want you, but I’m not ready. I need a little more time, I want to be…”

“Free.” Dean finishes for him and nods when Castiel’s body responds to the single word with an all over shiver. “I understand that more than anybody, Cas. Of course I’ll wait for you.”

“You will?” Castiel’s startled. 

Dean smiles at him before wandering close enough to brush his thumb across Castiel’s bottom lip. “What do you think I’ve been doing all these months? It’s nothing new. Waiting for you feel whole enough to pick me over all the other people you could have. Waiting for me to become a better person so I’m worth your choosing. I can wait a little longer, Cas. But I promise, when you ask me? I’m a sure thing.” 

*****

“You should just pee on him,” Sam comments dryly at his wedding reception. Dean is sitting beside him at the head table, picking at his food and staring at Castiel. “That would be less work for you than trying to scare off the bridesmaids by glowering at them from a distance.”

“Gross, Sam!” Dean exclaims, turning a few heads with how loud his voice is in the reception hall. He lowers down into more private tones and growls at his brother, “Not funny dude.” 

“I’m not joking, Dean,” Sam sighs. “It’s obvious to everyone in a five mile radius that as far as your concerned Cas is off the market. You’re scary. Just relax; you know he’s not interested in anyone but you.” 

“I’m confused,” Jessica says as she leans around Sam’s ever broadening shoulders to peek at Dean. “I thought you two have been a couple for years.”

Dean opens his mouth and then flounders for something to say in response. Are they that transparent?

“They have been,” Sam chuckles as he tugs her close and presses a sweet kiss to his new bride’s temple. “It took them until last night to figure it all out though.” 

“Oh,” Jessica exclaims before leaning back around Sam to regard Dean with affection. “I like him very much, Dean. He’s a keeper. You know what I mean?”

“You guys seriously don’t care?” Dean sputters. It’s not something he’s really talked to Sam about before now. “Cas is a dude.”

“I hope you’re not just finding that out,” Sam teases. Dean glares at him. “Look,” Sam explains. “When you were away and you guys were writing each other all the time I started thinking maybe something was up when you started talking to me about him. Then he came to my graduation even though he was a right hot mess. That kind of sealed the deal, you know? I thought for a long time you guys had already gotten to all of the lovey-dovey stuff. But then at your hearing it hit me you guys weren’t together yet. I’ve just been waiting for you both to hop on the clue bus.”

“It’s complicated, Sam,” Dean says as he reaches for his water suddenly feeling choked up. 

“You really think that? Because he’s still struggling or because you’re you?” Sam asks. “Look at him, Dean.” 

Dean follows where his brother is pointing across the dance floor and spots Castiel slowly swaying in a circle with Jessica’s great Grandmother. It’s adorable and he looks enraptured, uncomfortable too, but not terrified. 

Dean’s so proud of him he wants to rush over and spin him in a circle. 

“He’s doing great,” Dean admits.

“Hence my point,” Sam huffs. “He’s not as fragile as you both seem to think he is. Put your foot in his ass, Dean. Stop being so damned patient. It’s really freaking me out.” 

“It’s not my foot I want to put in his ass, Sam,” Dean grins evilly as his brother pales. “You know that right? Or do I need to draw you a picture?” 

Jessica howls with laughter and Sam takes a long swig of his champagne. “Away with you,” he says after he swallows. “I have no brother.” 

Dean’s still cracking up as he gets up from the table and walks across the room to the dance floor. “Mind if I cut in?” he asks Jessica’s Great Grandmother with a little bow. She laughs delightedly and steps aside for Dean to slide his arm around Castiel’s hips and pull him closer before spinning him away. 

“You’re making a scene,” Castiel whispers against his neck as he buries his face and blushes.

“I’m making a point,” Dean replies before falling back in time with the music and swaying gently with the other man held in his arms. 

“And your point is?” Castiel questions. His eyes are darting around the room, like he’s afraid a mob is forming.

“My new sister-in-law thought you and I have been together for years,” Dean chuckles and Castiel’s mouth drops open in shock. 

“Are you serious?” Castiel sputters. 

“Sure am,” Dean smiled at Castiel’s dumbstruck expression. 

“I believe the expression is ‘Oh, what the hell, Dean? Are we _that_ obvious?” Castiel says softly. It’s all it takes for Dean to burst out into giggles and stop even trying to dance so he can pull his friend, his hopefully soon-to-be more than friend, into a hug in the middle of the dance floor. 

He feels Castiel shaking against him, his face tucked into Dean’s neck and for a moment he’s scared maybe the news was too much for him. But when Castiel pulls back he’s smiling. “Come on,” Dean says as he tugs Castiel off the dance floor. “I want another piece of cake.”

“And you’re certain you can get another one?” Castiel teases. 

“Yep,” Dean grins. “I’m in good with the guy that made it. He loves me.” 

“He certainly does,” Castiel murmurs and if Dean holds his hand a little tighter no one really cares. 

*****  
They’re having movie night, just the two of them two months after Sam’s wedding. Gabriel’s out on the town with one of Jessica’s friends from the wedding. A sort of dark and mysterious woman named Kali. 

In another life, Castiel would have found her quite lovely as well. But at this point in time, all he can think about is how much he wants to knock Dean onto his back, climb up on top of him, and make out with him like a horny teenager. Instead he’s sitting on couch across from Dean, with a full couch cushion between them. Castiel doesn’t want this. He wants to be holding Dean’s hand and leaning in for long, slow kisses. He wants to be unaware of which movie is playing and focused on the soft sounds Dean would probably make when you kiss him instead. 

“Have dinner with me,” he blurts out. 

Dean turns to look at him with his face wrinkled up in confusion. “I just did.” 

“No,” Castiel sighs. “I mean out, as a couple.”

Dean turns off the television to give Castiel his full attention. “Are you serious?” 

“Yes,” Castiel exclaims. “I am nervous about it, but I simply cannot wait any longer. I’m head over heels in love with you and you….you love me too. I know it. I’m sitting here wondering why you’re sitting on the other side of the couch when we could be together and then I remember you’re doing it because in my idiocy I asked you to wait. What am I waiting for? I want my life back, I want you to be a part of it. I have no intension of remaining here and worrying about what if something goes wrong and I lose control of myself. It’s insulting. I’ve been going out by myself for months now and I’ve never had a panic attack. My therapist and my psychiatrist both think I’m doing quite well. I’m the one that needs to believe I’m whole again and the only way I’m going to be able to believe that is to take risk. So, please, have dinner with me.” 

“When?” Dean asks. When Castiel looks up at Dean's face his smile is so big it looks like it has to hurt his cheeks. 

“Friday,” Castiel states firmly. 

“I can do that,” Dean agrees before adding, “Do you put out on the first date? If the answer is yes then we should talk.”

That stumps him. Castiel wants Dean, feels the tension from not touching him intimately building even as he’s just sitting here. 

“I’m not sure how to answer you,” he finally admits. “I want you, but there’s something to be said for dating and flirting. I’m not sure I want to miss that part with you. I’m hoping you’re my last first date.” 

“Same here,” Dean smiles as he reaches out to tangle their fingers together. “Look, Cas.” He sighs. “You know that joke people tell about not dropping the soap in jail?”

Castiel nods. 

Dean chews on his lower lip for a moment before continuing, “It’s not really a joke. I’ve messed around with guys before, but I never took relationships seriously back then. So I knew I liked guys before I went to jail, but it’s one thing if you’re willing, Cas…”

Castiel squeezes Dean’s hand even as he struggles to keep his breathing even. He’s not sure he can take this talk. 

“There was this guy, Alistair,” Dean says quietly. “When I was put into the prison population he tried to force me into some things. It never happened, but he beat me so bad they had to send me right back to infirmary. After that, well, there were a couple of times people tried to, uh, you know, with me. I’m not going to go into detail. For the most part I was lucky. I wasn’t young or small. I could stand my ground and didn't have to take shit to get by. I had a good reputation with the guards and staff. Other inmates had heard I was solid because I hadn’t snitched on my team. It helped keep me safe from most of the mess. But at night, Cas. They turn the lights off sometimes at night and you can hear the young ones screaming. Chuck ended up my cellmate after a group of guys caught him alone in the showers and tore him up. It was awful.”

Dean takes a shuddering breath that Castiel mimics. Castiel cautiously scoots close, not sure if Dean would want to be touched or not. 

“For the rest of my time,” Dean says softly. “I acted like Chuck was my bitch. I never touched him, I swear. It wasn’t like that. I'm pretty sure I was in love with you even back then. But out in public, on the floor, I owned his ass. It was the only way to make sure no one hurt him. No one deserves to be treated like that, Cas. No one should have to be violated that way. I just wanted you to know everything, before we got close.”

“You are concerned for him,” Castiel murmurs. 

“I am,” Dean nods. “He’s got three more months. I’m always really relieved when he writes.” 

“You’re a good man, Dean,” Castiel says as he presses his forehead to Dean’s shoulder. “A good friend.” 

“I want to be,” Dean whispers. Castiel watches him reach a shaky hand up to swipe at his face. 

The next thing Castiel knows his arms are circling around Dean’s head as his friend buries his face in his lap and sobs. 

Castiel sits in the dark, resting his head against the couch while Dean releases what he suspects is almost four years of pent up emotion. It’s all the things he couldn’t feel in prison, and all that he couldn’t show Castiel because he didn’t want to add to his stress. Castiel doesn’t mind at all. He’s just grateful he worked as hard as he did so he could be here for his friend now. Dean trusting him to be this vulnerable tells Castiel more than any words could that he’s ready to take the next step with Dean. 

He’s capable of being an equal partner in a relationship again. He’s not going to be burden; they can share each other’s weight. Castiel’s reservation about being in a romantic partnership lift.. He dips his head without thinking and presses a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. 

A long time later, when Dean’s breathing has evened out and Castiel can tell he’s mostly snuggling, taking advantage of the chance to touch more than anything else, he whispers, “So for Friday, how do you feel about Chinese?” 

Dean laughs a sort of wet sound against Castiel’s thigh, but he nods his agreement. 

*****

"What, did you think I meant take out?" asks Castiel as Dean looks over the dining room of Wing Lei, the ultra hip Chinese restaurant in Wynn's Resort, with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Dean admits. “I think I’m overwhelmed. I’m glad we got a corner booth.”

The booth's sides were high and made of dark wood. The two were mostly enclosed, as if they were in a room within a room. Dean sat on the side of the table that gave him a view of the rest of the restaurant, while Castiel was given the illusion of privacy with his view being mostly taken up by Dean.

“You like to be able to see,” Castiel nods slowly. “I like privacy and feeling enclosed. I thought it best to request this one.”

“Smart man,” Dean teases. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”

Castiel eyes jerk up from his menu, startled by Dean’s declaration.

“Should I not have said that?” Dean asks while he turns his water glass in a circle. He’s nervous; maybe he’s pushing too hard. Maybe Castiel wants to ease back into this more slowly. 

“I love you,” Castiel says firmly as he looks at Dean from over his menu. “You can say that you love me as much as you want. I’m just sometimes shocked by how easy this is for us.” 

“You expected more angst,” Dean nods. “More man pain?” 

Castiel laughs and shakes his head. “I was simply unprepared for my jagged edges to slide into place so easily next to yours.” 

“You should have been a poet, Cas,” Dean smiles. 

“I am,” Castiel says proudly. “but only with baked goods.”

“And I love you for it,” Dean agrees. 

“Of that I am aware,” Castiel hesitates before adding. “I know this isn’t a business appropriate venue, but I wanted discuss with you a small venture. A number of Jessica’s friends and family have been requesting more cakes from me and I believe I would enjoy working again, but at my own pace.”

“That’s awesome, Cas,” Dean can’t seem to stop grinning. 

Castiel blushes. Conversation stops as the waiter comes to take their order. The rest of dinner they find themselves occupied in discussing the options for a place for Castiel to work. They flow easily from subject to subject. Though they both lose a lot of the conversation touching across the table. Hands grazing one another, fingers tangling with each other, feet disobediently crossing the hidden border under the table to touch a shin. It's more flirting than Castiel has done in years, and more than Dean has done in what feels like a life time.

By the time they’re home and disabling the new, advanced alarm system Gabriel and Dean designed for the house, Dean’s floored that the night was so, well, normal. 

“You did great, Cas. I‘m proud of you,” he says as they walk hand in hand down the steps to Castiel’s apartment. 

“I am…quite pleased,” Castiel murmurs in a rough timber. “There was a period, over dinner, when I forgot it was supposed to be difficult. It is a very good feeling.”

“I bet,” Dean answers as he steps closer. Castiel cocks his head to the side as he watches Dean from under his lashes. 

“Are you trying to kiss me good night, Mr. Winchester?” Castiel questions. 

“Depends,” Dean say. He slides his hand up the exposed side of Castiel’s neck, stopping just under his jaw. “Is this goodnight, Mr. Novak?”

Castiel shivers. Dean can feel the tiny hairs at the back of the other man’s neck stand up against his palm. 

“I would prefer it not be,” Castiel whispers. “But you must promise you’ll still respect me in the morning.” 

“You have no idea how much,” Dean murmurs as he tugs the other man forward and finally, _finally_ claims his mouth. Castiel melts against him with a thoroughly happy groan. Deep down Dean’s insides stir, but his focus is on learning the taste, the feel, of Castiel’s lips. He’s been dying inside for this moment for years. Dean doesn’t want to miss the moment. 

God, Cas taste like shu mai, and peppermint. His lips are warm and soft. And when he parts them to let Dean inside his tongue is just as wicked and sharp as his sense of humor. 

He makes Dean work for it, and Dean loves every second of the struggle. 

They stumble through the apartment’s door and across the room to the couch. Laughing and groaning into each other’s mouths, they sway and trip into each other. It’s almost like their first dance down here. Someone hip checks an end table, sending a photo frame careening to land safely on the carpet. But then Castiel’s pushing Dean's back down across the sofa and sliding down on top of him, covering Dean’s body with his own. Castiel’s weight feels welcoming, his touches divine. 

Dean sort of thought he would be leading, but fuck it, he really doesn’t care. 

Once they're settled, it’s a slow build. They trade kisses, tucked in tight against each other until Dean’s jaw aches from it and even then they keep it up a little bit longer. Castiel’s making these little mewling noises that Dean hopes he gets to hear for the rest of his life. 

Dean’s tugging up the back of Castiel’s dress shirt, he’s so desperate to touch his skin. At the same time, he realizes that Castiel is unbuckling his belt and pulling at his jeans. 

Dean hears his belt land with a thud onto the floor. Then Castiel slides his hand inside Dean’s boxers and the world whites out for a minute. 

Fuck. He’s going to lose it in his pants like a teenager. 

“Oh no, you’re not,” Castiel responds and for one horrible second Dean thinks Castiel has suddenly developed the powers of mind reading. He must have looked confused because Castiel chuckles and says, “You said that out loud.” 

“Oh,” Dean slumps in relief, “Thank God.” 

Then Castiel’s thumb rubs the sensitive underside of his cock and Dean makes a noise that he thought only gerbils could make. 

Castiel beams at him. “I’ve spent a great deal of time contemplating you like this.” 

“This isn’t going how I thought it would go,” Dean chokes out as Castiel rubs that spot again and again, making him writhe on the couch, unable to even think straight. 

“Really?” Castiel whispers deep and rumbling up close to Dean’s ear. “Did you think I would be passive? Did you imagine me squirming underneath you while you worked me open? Did you think I wouldn’t know what to do, or that I’d be shy? You thought wrong, Dean. I want you, very much. I’ve been imagining all the things I would do to you for almost a year, every time I touched myself. I’ve come calling your name more time than I can count. Now that I have you, now that you’re mine, I fully plan to find out how close my imagination was.” 

Dean’s breath shudders out of him and pre-come leaks from his dick. The thought of Cas touching himself while he planned Dean's seduction is almost too much for him.

“Am I living up to expectations so far?” Dean manages to ask. 

“You’ve exceeded all of them already,” Castiel answers. Then he’s tugging off Dean’s boxers, exposing his cock to the cool air just long enough for Castiel to slide to the floor on his knees and take Dean into his mouth. 

Dean comes in less than a minute, groaning in disappointment as he can’t hold back. 

Castiel sputters a little. Dean comes out of his orgasm induced fog to pet Castiel’s head gently. He takes Dean hand and squeezes while he wipes at his mouth with the sleeve of the shirt he hasn’t even managed to unbutton much less remove. 

“I need a little more practice at that,” Castiel comments as he rubs a warm palm over the bared skin of Dean’s belly. Dean almost purrs. 

“You did great,” Dean murmurs, stretching. “Best blow job I’ve had in years.” 

“It’s the _only_ blow job you’ve had in years,” Castiel complains, shoving at Dean’s hip as he gets to his feet and starts to remove his shirt and shoes. 

Dean watches him intently until Castiel’s hands fall to his own belt and he falters. Dean slides to his feet, pulls the other man close, and kisses him. It’s lazy, messy even, hot. Then Dean walks past Castiel on wobbly legs, shedding the rest of his clothing as he goes to the bedroom. 

From behind him, Dean hears Castiel’s sharp intake of breath when he climbs onto the bed to lie on his stomach and purposefully parts his legs. 

“Dean?” Castiel asks in a rough baritone. 

“Please,” Dean answers. It’s all it takes for Castiel to scramble up onto the bed behind him, leaving a shaky trail of wet kisses all over his back, thighs, and ass. 

Dean surprised by how relaxed he feels. Castiel touching him could never be a bad thing. The more Castiel strokes across his skin, the more Dean realizes he wants this, not just because it will please Castiel, but because he’s finally getting the chance to do something he’s never tried before. 

He’s making love with someone. He’s making love with Cas. 

And maybe he was expecting it to be quick and wild, but Castiel never fails to surprise him. He hears the click of what he suspects is going to be lube and shivers when it turns out to be massage oil. 

“Cas?” he questions. 

“What’s your refractory period?” Castiel asks. He sweeps his hands down Dean’s back and then starts searching out the tense muscles hidden beneath Dean’s skin.

“Oh fuck, Cas,” Dean groans into the pillows. 

“Eventually,” Castiel agrees, “But I want to see if you can come again tonight.”

Things get a little hazy for Dean after that. He loses himself in the pleasure and heat of Castiel’s hands as they slide up and down his spine. It might be hours later for all he knows when he finally feels Castiel’s body shift and those too-wonderful-for-words hands slip across his hips down to the globes of his ass and kneed them deeply. After a few kneads of Dean’s flesh, Castiel moves down away from Dean’s more enticing bits.

By the time Castiel’s gets down the arch on Dean’s left leg he’s rocking his growing erection into the sheets. 

By the time he makes it down Dean’s right leg Dean’s a shivering, moaning mess. 

When Castiel leans forward in one smooth motion, dragging two of his fingers up the inside of Dean’s thigh to brush over his hole Dean’s hips jerk and he begs for it. 

“Oh God,” he pants, “Please, Cas. Need it, want you. Please, please.” 

But Castiel just keeps stroking, rubbing over the opening to his body again and again. Dean’s distantly aware of a high pitched noise happening around them. When Castiel’s fingers slip away and he realizes he’s the one making the racket. 

“Don’t stop,” he pleads shamelessly. 

Castiel murmurs at him wordlessly and then his fingers are back, slicker, sliding gently inside. Dean tosses back his head and groans like someone is killing him. His whole body is pushing into the intrusion, trying to get to his knees so he can push back against the touch. He’s panting, trembling all over and then he hears Castiel’s breath hitch and he’s finally able to turn his attention to his lover. 

Castiel’s hand is clamped hard around the base of his dick, his eyes closed while he breathes in and out through his nose like he’s focusing everything he has on something internal. 

It hits Dean suddenly how badly Castiel probably wants to come. 

“More,” Dean says softly. Shocked at how gravelly his voice sounds. 

Castiel’s eyes snap back open and two fingers quickly become three. Dean feels the slight burn and knows they’re starting to rush it, but fuck, he wants this and Cas isn’t going to last. 

“I’m good,” he mutters, swatting Castiel’s hands away and pointedly ignoring the look his new lover gives him that he knows means Castiel doesn’t agree. 

But then there’s the sound of a condom packet tearing open and the cap of the lube bottle snaps open again. Castiel touches his side gently and says, “Let me lie down.”

Dean’s kissing him gratefully as soon as Castiel is settled on his back. He wants to see him, wants to be able to look in his eyes. 

He shifts on top as their lips still brush and then leans back as he reaches behind himself to hold Castiel steady while he slides down and takes him inside. 

It’s not painful, it’s not easy either. Dean’s broken out in a sweat by the time he feels seated against Castiel sharp hipbones and he groans as Castiel tugs him down to press kisses all over him. 

Dean shifts his hips experimentally and the zing of pleasure that shoots up his spine makes him groan and try it again. Castiel lets him sit back up and trails his fingers over Dean’s nipples, making him squirm, gasp, and slam down harder than he means too. 

They get a rhythm and it’s not long before Castiel’s talents fingers are back to rubbing Dean’s dick just the way he likes it. He tangles his fingers with Castiel’s free hand when he feels it building and tips back his head as he cries out for the second time tonight. 

Castiel grinding his teeth beneath him and Dean hazily contemplates the man’s stamina because he still hasn’t come. In the end, Dean reaches out to rub his still warm come across Castiel’s chest before stroking his left nipple gently and whispering, “Mine.”

Castiel grabs his hips and goes off like a rocket. 

Dean’s ears are ringing by the time he comes down. 

He slides off to the side, wincing a little as he goes, boneless and more content than he’s ever been in his whole life. 

Castiel reaches out immediately to stroke a still shaky hand across Dean’s side and curl closer to him. 

Dean hears him exhale like he’s held that breath for years. 

“As good as you hoped?” Dean asks. 

Castiel blinks at him hazily before breaking into a wide grin and answering, “Better, unbelievably so.”

Long moments later as they stay close, cooling down, petting each other gently Castiel says conversationally, “I was going to rim you, but I was afraid it was too soon.” 

Dean feels his dick give a feeble twitch against his thigh as he process what he just heard. “Fuck, Cas,” he half-heartedly complains. “I don’t think I can get it up again tonight.” 

Castiel rolls up on his elbows and says, “Care to find out?”

Then he drags Dean to the shower where he promptly proves Dean wrong. 

The third time is his limit though, Castiel patiently works him through it, coming himself for a second time. Then they stood exhausted and vulnerable under the shower spray before cleaning each other up and sliding into the bed. 

Dean drifts off to sleep that night while Castiel traces every scar on his body with his fingers and his lips. As he drifts away Dean wonders to himself how he never knew before how good it feels to be in love.

**Epilog**

“Tell me you haven’t had sex in here,” Chuck pleads as he drops his duffel bag in what was once Dean’s room. 

They both silently blink at him.

“I hate you guys already,” Chuck grumbles but there’s a smile around his eyes that tell them he’s lying. 

Castiel’s small cake business has turned into something a little larger rather quickly. It turns out that Jessica’s mother is part of a very vocal and affluent women’s group who simply adore Castiel’s quaint little cakes. 

All of those affluent friends have affluent houses. The exact type of houses that require sophisticated security systems. 

It’s the circle of life at it’s best. Castiel bakes the cakes and introduces them to Dean‘s business. Dean gives them a demonstration by breaking into their "safe" houses. When he's done, he hands them Gabriel's card who then sells them equipment that keeps real crooks from taking advantage of them. Dean gets a percentage of each sale as both a finder's fee and for his work perfecting the security system. He's now Gabriel's full partner in the business.

Then there’s Chuck. 

Chuck served his sentence and around the same time his release papers came through, so had his divorce. He ended up with nowhere to go and only one friend in the whole world. When Dean went to pick him up, Chuck had come out of the jail with a limp. He'd gotten the injury after Dean was no longer there to protect him. He doesn’t want to talk about it. 

Chuck happens to have a double Master’s in Structural Engineering and Computer Programming. He earned his time in prison by being found guilty of industrial spying. 

He was a hacker. Gabriel was thrilled. 

Chuck expressed more of an interest in Castiel’s cake making business, but Gabriel and Dean were able to convince him to help them expand their security work. More and more people need to protect their interests on line just as much as they do in their homes.

They even have their own lawyer on retainer now that Sam’s passed the bar. 

So for most of his employment, Chuck ends up in the detached garage/bakery working with Castiel on the next big breakthrough in cake design. They need more help, so they hired a kid just out of Juvenile detention named Adam to do the deliveries. He’s a little rough around the edges but he came highly recommended by his probation officer, Bobby Singer. 

Castiel’s proud to say he’s making the cake for Bobby’s upcoming retirement party.   
After all, it was the least he could do after Gabriel and Dean managed to talk Bobby into retiring from law enforcement his to go into the private sector with them. 

They need all the help they can get. Recently, they've been getting a lot of media attention due to their policy of hiring ex felons and people living with mental health issues. 

With a name like Conviction Security and Design they’re kind of hard to miss.   
Castiel has built in mental health days for his employees and Dean and Gabriel have jackets made for all them listing the amount of time they spent incarcerated or struggling with a mental health condition. 

Dean tells their clients it’s important for others to remember there are real people behind those bars and working through their personal issues. If wearing a jacket with a number on it helps raise awareness he’ll wear his everyday. 

It’s not always easy. They each have to work on their own progress. Castiel still goes to therapy. Gabriel still goes to his N.A. meetings. Dean’s still on probation. 

But it’s better than they had before. At night, when the world is slowing down around them, Castiel and Dean slip into bed together and talk about all the things they’re grateful for. 

They have each other, they have their freedom, and they have hope. 

And all is right in their corner of the world. 

If Castiel sometimes happens to bring home a tub of butter-cream and slathers Dean all over with it before licking it off….well that’s just icing on the cake.


End file.
